Like a Phoenix He Shall Rise
by Nighttime Sunshine
Summary: Harry won't return to Hogwarts for fifth year. Will he come back? What about Voldemort? H/Hr(eventually). Rating for cursing. All Reviews and Flames welcomed.
1. Helpful Stranger

                Harry Potter looked out of the window of the smallest bedroom of number 4 Privet Drive. It was dark outside, the only light was emitted from the crescent  moon and countless stars. He recalled the day; Vernon Dursley, Harry's uncle had picked him up from the Kings Cross Station after Harry had returned from his fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

                You see, Harry Potter was not your normal boy, he was far from it. Harry was a wizard, and a damn good one at that. Harry lived with his Aunt and her family because Lord Voldemort, the most feared dark wizard of his time had murdered Harry's parents when he was one year old. When Voldemort turned his wand to Harry, amazingly the killing curse which had never failed, rebounded and struck Voldemort. Voldemort, however, became a bodiless spirit, possessing the bodies of others; weak and evil. Only during the end of the school year did Voldemort kidnap Harry and use his blood to regain his body and magical power to resume his goals of immortality and world domination.

                The event was very gruesome for Harry, and it haunted him. He was sleepless and scared. He felt hopeless, such as one whom the entire world confronts. He saw the images flash in his mind every time he closed his eyes. The cold face of Cedric Diggory, eyes wide in horror, frozen in time, burned permanently into Harry's mind, following him everywhere. "Kill the spare." The words echoed in Harry's ears. 

He wanted out. It was too much he decided. He should never have entered this magical world where he was praised, worshipped, popular…fuck that, a bloody celebrity. Everyone knew his name, his face, his scar, and he despised it, all of it….all of them. It was his fault Cedric had died, whose else could it be? Crouch? He just set up the portkey. Pettigrew? He was following orders, like any true soldier. Voldemort? That fucking bastard? Honestly who could blame him at lashing out at the world. The world was cruel and unfair. Every wants to take revenge, get their piece, steal a larger chunk of the pie. No one wants to be insignificant, left out, isolated, alone, nothing. What did Voldemort have? Power. Influence. He spread fear faster than a sonic boom. He had his loyal servants, his slaves. He would never be like Harry. Totally and utterly alone. 

He checked his watch, and noticed for the third time that day it was not on his wrist. He had discarded it after it broke in the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. But of course it was the completion of the third task that brought Cedric to his early demise. Too fucking soon. The guilt and helplessness again flowed through Harry's veins. He felt it penetrate all of the deepest confounds of his mind and body. It was like a drug. Not like anything that made you feel high, but it made you feel low. Every few minutes, more like seconds he felt it released, and he accepted it. He would have tried to fight it, and it wasn't if he couldn't beat it, he knew he could, but he didn't…didn't… want to. He didn't want to muster the strength to do it. Why? God knows. Harry wasn't certain about anything at the moment, and he didn't want to see anybody that could remind him of the pain, the guilt, the wide glassy eyes of Cedric Diggory.

Harry glanced over to his alarm clock. Four eighteen. Harry sighed audibly and turned back to the jet black night, staring into nothingness, hoping for a sign. For hours Harry just sat watching, for anything. Anything to occupy his mind, keep him a wake so the nightmares wouldn't come. So Cedric wouldn't come out of the wand with Bertha, the old man, and his parents. He just wanted to forget it all, to be normal with a family, to be loved, and not pursued in hate. He had to run.

At seven twenty the sun had risen and was up in the sky a bit,  Harry decided to go make breakfast for the Dursleys, then he could easily retreat to his room and fight his sleepy eyes until the mental exhaustion was so great he would be forced into a lengthy dreamless sleep, and for him, that was the best choice, no matter what the cost. After he made breakfast, and ate a small bit of bacon and eggs, leaving the rest for his "family," he trudged back up to his room. Despite the brightness of the room, he felt his eyelids begin to get heavy, and his mind beg for rest. It was difficult, but Harry resolved to stay awake as long as possible. So far he'd made it twenty three hours without sleep, and more was needed. But without a burst of energy, sleep would come.

                Desperate to keep the slumber away, Harry had to bring up his heart rate. He needed….coffee. 'Crap, the Dursleys don't have any coffee. Alright, no coffee. That leaves…exercise.' Harry wasted no time getting onto the floor in pushup position. 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 'That was weak' he thought as he collapsed on the ground, panting and aching. He began to think about other exercises. Sit-ups. Maybe later. Weight lifting? I have no weights. Running. Running. I could do running. Harry put on a different t-shirt and shorts before tying his shoes and walking down the stairs and out the front door. He began in a very slow jog, and was surprised by how soon he was out of breath again and panting, barely two streets away. Harry sat lazily on the curb and leaned back against a tall tree, hoping, praying he had enough juice left to make the jog back to 4 Privet drive. On second thought, falling asleep here wouldn't be such a bad thing. Well, maybe except for the sunburn he'd get. A loud, old, dented and rusty car squeaked itself to a brake in front of the dazing Harry, who just moved his eyes to look at the driver who was staring at Harry for a moment before leaning into the passenger seat and out of view. A second later the window on the passenger side rolled down and the man sat back up.

                "Yeh alright, kid?" The man asked in a hoarse voice, raspy probably from smoking his whole life. Harry guessed him to be near sixty, with thick gray hair, a small round nose and other round features. He looked friendly enough.

                "Yes" Harry said slowly, as if contemplating the answer. The man thought for a moment, looking Harry up and down.

                "Whatcha doin' out here all by yerself?" The answer came slowly to Harry, but he had the confidence to say it more surely than before.

                "Running"

                "You live nearby?"

                "Yes"

                "You want a job this summer? Until you go back to school?" Harry finally took a serious look at the man. He had never considered working. Even to get money. It had never crossed his mind the benefits of a real job. But still. Harry knew better than to agree to a blind offer.

                "What does it entail?" The man let out a sort of half grin, half smile. Harry didn't know why but he felt like trusting the guy.

                "I own a bookstore, that has it's share of business. Always unloading boxes of books, and stocking shelves. It would make you a bit meaner if you took the job." Harry doubtfully looked closer at the car. It was bad.

                "You own a bookstore?" Harry said with more sarcasm than he meant. The man must have noticed Harry's eyes on the automobile.

                "Yes, and I don't tend to use muggle contraptions often, but my floo is under repair right now and I never learned to apperate. I found it useless for my lifestyle." The words would have created the surprise on Harry's face he felt, had he enough energy to show it.

                "You're-you're-you're….."

                "A wizard Harry, yes. I own Flourish and Blotts Bookstore in Diagon Alley. I believe yeh've been there before. I know you don't want the crowd or publicity, but we can change your appearance so no one knows who you are." This began to become appealing. He could work every day, so he wouldn't have to mope around thinking about…last year. He would be making money. Steady income is a good thing. He may even have time to read some books that interested him. 

                "How would I get there every day? How much would I get paid? How would we change my appearance? When do I start?" He couldn't keep the urgency from his voice.

                "Well, it was Albus's idea for me to offer you this job, and I was supposed to do this next week, but by chance or fate I found you now. Your fireplace has been added to the floo-network but only you can use it. A brilliant invention by Albus, I must say. Payment, yes. I never thought of that. I guess we'll go ten sickles an hour. We'll say eight hours a day, that's eighty sickles, or four Galleons and twelve sickles a day. Not a bad salary for a fourteen year old boy. How many day's a week would you like to work, if you're interested."

                "How about every day. Including weekends and holidays. I have nothing better to do and it will keep my thoughts away from what hap….things." The man sat back in his chair doing some calculations.

                "I'm not so sure that that is a wise choice for you, nor good for me. With the salary I'm giving you, it will accumulate to drain me a lot."

                "Look, Mr.…"

                "Spencer."

                "Mr. Spencer, I am not a greedy person. I don't need that much money. How is this? I work for you every day, for nine hours, from eight to five. You pay me two Galleons a day. That is all I want. The money isn't important. I just want the job. I need to get away."

                "You do understand how little you're asking for, right?"

                "That is exactly why I'm asking for it. I can take the floo at eight, you can change my appearance and then change it back at five, before I floo home. I get fourteen Galleons a week to change into muggle currency to buy myself things, like clothes, mostly."

                "Alright, but if you ever need a vacation or rest from working you will tell me, understood?"

                "Yes, sir"

                "No sir, just call me Spencer, everyone does. As for your appearance, you will be doing that. Didn't Albus tell you that the ministry took off the magic detectors in your house? You can change your appearance by yourself. A simple _Capillus Fuscum _will make your hail brown. And a _Oculus Caeruleum _to each eye to turn them blue. _Celare _will hide your scar. All of these spells end with a simple _Finite Encantem_. You start when you want to. Just show up. Flourish and Blotts on the Floo-Network. Honestly though, you don't look good, go home and get some rest Harry, you'll need it."

                "Thank you Mr. Spencer."

                "Just Spencer is fine."

                "You're a lifesaver."

                "Glad I could help. I'd better be getting moving. I'll see you soon Harry. Good Bye."

                "Bye." Said Harry weakly as he stood slowly, his knees cracking and popping. Once steadily on his feet, Harry walked leisurely back to 4 Privet Drive, a small grin on the corners of his mouth. 'So Dumbledore made them let me do magic, huh. Oh the humanity! What will I do now? Dudleeeey? Oh Duuudleeey? Want to play with me' Harry thought to himself snickering. He entered the house to see a hushed family breakfast. He had to admit, Smeltings was doing a good job with Dudley's diet. It must have been the first time Dudley has ever come home thinner that he was when he left. Petunia was thrilled, and Vernon, now being solely, by far fatter than Dudley, began his own diet. They remarkable ignored him verbally, shooting fearful glances at him. He supposed either Sirius sent a letter to them or someone told them about the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Maybe both. 

                "What?" he said, as the silence was eerie and making him feel awkward. Uncle Vernon was trembling slightly as he passed a bit of parchment to Harry, who slowly read it.

                Dear Mr. And Mrs. Dursley,

I know that you detest our way of life but I beg of you to read this. It concerns Harry. Harry participated in a competition between the three most powerful wizarding schools in Europe. Harry's name was selected to participate making him the fourth competitor, as opposed to the standard three. Harry competed bravely and selflessly and succeeded in winning. However, the completion of the third and final task was the capture of the Tri-Wizard Cup. Harry and another boy who was a friend of Harry were both standing before it, each refusing to accept the victory. Harry suggested they both take the cup, and so they did.

The cup transported Harry and the other boy to an old graveyard. I won't go into details but the boy with Harry was murdered, in front of his eyes. This event was followed by Harry experiencing the worst for of pain and torture our community has. He was forced to provide blood to resurrect the most evil and feared wizard of our time. Harry then fought the Wizard, and succeeded in escaping with the body of the dead boy.

This is a very traumatic experience for Harry, and though he is not at fault, I know he feels the intense guilt accompanied with a death he foolishly feels he could have prevented. Unfortunately he must stay with you this entire summer, because no place is safe for him. I know I cannot dictate how you act towards him or treat him, but I ask you as a human being, do not make his life with you difficult, as he has accomplished feats that bring him admiration from our entire community. However he pays the price of his successes, but even more so for what he believes to be his failures. 

I have also lifted the ban on doing magic outside of Hogwarts on him, because I know he will need it this summer. If you have any questions, Harry knows how to contact me.

Sincerely,

                Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, 

Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards)

                "Oh" said Harry as he handed the parchment back to Uncle Vernon. 

                "Is it true?" squealed Dudley, unable to contain himself, his greedy little eyes focused on Harry.

                "What?"

                "Did you really see him die?" He was nervous, but for some odd reason very interested in Harry's pain. Go figure.

                "Yes. He died the same way my parents did, only he didn't have the chance to fight back." There was another awkward silence and Harry stood, feeling vulnerable and tired.

                "Can _you_ do it?" said Aunt Petunia "Can you kill people?" She spoke slowly, and fearfully. He found this as an odd question, but decided to answer honestly none the less.

                "I don't know, I've never tried. And I don't think I want to" he added, seeing the unsure relief form on their faces. "I'm going to sleep." He turned and took a step away before he returned to the kitchen. "I almost forgot. I got a job this morning, so I'll be off at eight o'clock every day for the rest of the summer and I won't be home until five. I'll make breakfast before I go." Before they could ask questions Harry left, jogging slowly up the stairs to his room. He closed the door, let down the shades, set his alarm for six thirty in the morning, giving him about twenty-one hours of sleep before he would rise, run, shower, eat and floo his way to work. Harry's head  hit the pillow softly, and he nestled it in, creating a warm comforting feeling he hadn't felt in a day. Seconds after his eyes closed, he drifted slowly into sleep.


	2. The Typical First Morning

  A special heartfelt thank you to **Taracollowen, **my very first, ever review. And yes, I do think I will continue for a long while.

_Beep .Beep. Beep. Beep. _Harry bolted upright in bed, he glanced around. He automatically turned the alarm clock off. The sun was not visible yet, but it cast a bright orange glow into the sky outside his window. He looked around his dim room, feeling more refreshed than normal, and stood up, stretching his legs. He knew today was a good day, a day to be pleased, but he couldn't quite remember why. Instinctively he grabbed one of Dudley's cast-off shorts and kept them around his waist with a belt Dudley grew out of when he was six. He put on his t-shirt as there was a tap at his window. He was a bit startled to see an incredibly large tawny owl hovering outside. Harry quickly opened the window, afraid that an owl that sized, when impatient might not wait for it to open. 

                The owl carried a small package and a note. Harry, seeing the size of the claws of the owl felt it may be better to get on the creature's good side before addressing the parcel hanging very close to the razor like talons. He stroked the owl softly, getting it to emit a very deep and throaty sound that was friendly enough. Harry slowly and carefully untied the package and the owl left beating it's large wings fluently. Harry was undoubtedly relieved the animal left, but could not say he didn't marvel at it. Wondering who would send him anything with such an owl, his attention turned to the package in hand. Harry opened the envelope and read quietly to himself.

                Harry, 

I realized when I got home last night that you may have trouble getting to the store if you have no floo-powder. I have sent a small amount to last until you can get some of your own. I don't mind if you are little tardy, because business really doesn't pick up until about eleven. You may want to bring your school work with you because until it gets busy you won't have much to do. I'll see you later.

Spencer.

                "Oh yeah" Harry muttered as he put on his shoes. He was going to begin work today, and he had to do well. He didn't know why, but he had to. Perhaps that was why he was happy. Of course it was, why else would he be happy.

                He sighed and walked out to the landing before tiptoeing down the stairs. Inside it was still dark and he was careful not to wake the Dursleys. They would not have approved of being woken this early by Harry making his way outside. He let out the contents of his lungs when he had closed the door and looked around the neighborhood. He began to jog as he did yesterday, but his sleep had helped him store a lot of energy and he went for nearly twice the distance he went before. When he got to tired to continue, he waited five minutes to catch his breath before jogging home. It wasn't particularly long, he guessed maybe half a mile there and another half back, so one mile. Not very long he admitted, but a start. He watched as the trees and mailboxes went by as he moved back onto Privet drive and up to the house with a number four on the mailbox. 

                He stepped inside quietly, and closed the door with a soft click. He bypassed his room and went straight to the bathroom for his shower. He let the warm water run over his body, tingling his senses, and making him feel good, stealing away some of the stress. He was very happy to start work so soon into vacation, it wouldn't give him any time to sulk and be depressed. Work could be the best thing to happen to him this summer. He let the water rinse him for a few more minutes before turning off the tap and staggering out. His legs were stiff and aching and not fully following orders. He brushed his hair neatly, knowing as soon as it dried it would stand up again. Traipsing into his room he got into a clean pair of shorts and boxers, and a recently washed pair of socks. He looked at his chest in the cracked dirty mirror before putting on his shirt. He was pale and skinny, sort of sickly looking. Sirius when he had escaped from Azkaban came to mind. He shivered and quickly put on his shirt. It was understood that Harry would be working in a wizarding environment, so he also put on a Hogwarts robe before picking up his wand. 

                He walked down to the hall and looked into the large mirror there. The wand went to his head and he muttered '_Capillus Fuscum' _and watched as slowly, the roots of his hair turned from black to a dark earthy brown all the way out to the tips. He was surprised it only took one try. Most magic was more difficult. Next he brought the wand to his right eye, and muttered '_Oculus Caeruleum_' and watched his emerald eyes become a uniform sky blue. In all honesty he looked horrid with brown hair and the one blue eye. He got an idea and put his wand to his other eye muttering '_Oculus Fuscum' _and smiled as his eye turned from the jungle green to brown. He looked from eye to eye and decided on brown. With a wave of the wand his currently blue eye became a brown eye instead. He smiled at himself, he actually almost could pass as looking a little bit normal. Now the last one. Harry put his want against his scar. The pain was short and sharp. He shrieked in agony as he felt his forehead light on fire. 

                Harry found himself on the floor of the hall with his wand nearby. He felt the pain reduce into an ache, and he refused to cry. He would not cry over something so trivial. A noise upstairs took him out of his dozing state, and he listened closely to the thumping of a large man down the stairs. Uncle Vernon came around the banister and into the hall, facing Harry, who was sitting still against the wall.

                "What was that, boy?" He was visibly restraining all of the insults he wanted the shoot. Harry turned his face to him, and was surprised to see Vernon's face soften and his rage disappear.

                "Ummm, I think that was me." Harry said quietly.

                "What happened to your face?" Again, odd behavior from the Dursleys, but to his benefit, so he might as well use it.

"My wand touched my scar, and it hurt. That's all, Uncle Vernon." He said trying to pass it off as magic gone wrong.

"Why's it bleeding?"

"Huh?" said Harry, not really paying attention anymore. Vernon was buttoning his shirt, obviously getting ready for work.

"Your, ummmm, scar. It's bleeding. You should, well, you know, so you don't get blood everywhere." Vernon could not be too nice, because those sly magic folk would surely steal his soul and sacrifice it to the devil if they got close.

"Oh. Okay. I'll just go and wash this off. I'll make breakfast in a minute." Harry got up slowly, testing his legs. They failed. Thud! He fell back against the wall smacking his head. Of course Uncle Vernon could help his nephew, but…..why? So Harry took two deep breaths while Vernon blindly continued buttoning his shirt with a slight frown on his face as he watch Harry struggle to his feet once again. Harry stood and started to walk. Slowly the blood began to pump and in no time he had reached the bathroom. 

Another mirror. He looked into it and washed the blood from his forehead. It appeared his scar had reopened, and was very sore. It had clotted, leaving a rather nasty scab. He sighed sullenly and walked back downstairs where he picked up his wand. He knew better than to let it touch again. He held it and inch from his face and murmured '_Celare_.' He wasn't sure but he thought he saw it fade for a second before was as clear as always. He tenderly pulled back his hair and tried again. The scar seemed to become blurry, mixing in with the skin around it. It was no where near as clear but evident enough to be noticed, even if it was hiding under his newly colored brown hair.  He took a deep breath and tried again. It became much less conspicuous, but still there if eyes were searching. 'One last time' he thought, and he said '_Celare_.' To his distinct pleasure it was now entirely hidden, but still very sore. He touched it gently, like a man touching something worth more than his life. He winced and pulled his hand back, before switching off the hall light and carefully walking into the kitchen to fix breakfast. 

Harry made two dozen large breakfast sausage, and ten eggs worth of scrambled eggs. He ate three of the sausage and maybe two of the eggs before he went back up to his room and picked up the box he'd received earlier. He opened it to find what seemed like a small jewelry box, such as that of a ring, filled to the brim with the white powder. He took a pinch, closed the box and placed it under the loose floorboard. Harry grabbed a quill, a bottle of ink, and a few rolls of parchment and pocketed them. He marched down to the living room and glanced in the kitchen. Dudley and Aunt Petunia had arrived and were joining Uncle Vernon at breakfast, who was casually describing Harry's "dangerous seizure" as he from then on called it. 

"I'll be going now. I won't see you till five." He forced a smile.

"You changed!" said Aunt Petunia in her short shrill voice.

"Umm, yeah. It's a disguise so the dark wizards can't find me." A lie, no one's perfectly honest.

"How'll you be getting there?" Asked Vernon, suspicious of all of the shady figures (magical folk) that Harry was associated with.

"By the fireplace. Don't worry, I won't blow up the house." Harry turned back to the living room.

"Can I watch?" Yelled Dudley through his eggs. Harry wasn't expecting this.

"Ummm, yeah, I guess." He said loudly, for yelling would surely make all the Dursleys mad. Harry wasn't allowed to raise his voice to that level. It showed strength, power, some things that Harry couldn't have.

Dudley raced into the living room and stood near the doorway. He really had slimmed a bit. He was in no way skinny, or normal weight, but he had lost a lot of weight and Harry had to give him credit. He noticed Vernon stood solidly behind Dudley "just in case" and Petunia next to Vernon. Being mildly embarrassed he raised his wand, and heard a loud gasp from Petunia. He paused, but decided not to respond to it at all, not even with a look. It might be seen as a challenge, and challenging any of the Dursleys was bad news.

"_Incendio_" He cried, and flames lit up the rarely used and dusty fireplace. There was a loud grunt, if it could be called that from Vernon, Petunia shrieked, but remained watching, Dudley clapped like he just saw a monkey get drunk and break dance. Harry turned to Vernon, who alone among the three seemed the least bit composed. "Uuuuuh, do you want the, the fire to go out after I leave?" He asked as cautiously as he dared. Vernon contemplated this; it wasn't a hard question, but it wasn't one that really mattered. It was just a matter of convenience.

"Yes, you do that." He said gruffly, trying to contain his anxiety. 

Harry pointed his wand at himself and muttered "_Finis Incendio._" Vernon noted nothing visibly happened. Harry threw the pinch of floo-powder into the fireplace which was cracked from years of disuse and stepped in. He felt the familiar warmth surround him and shouted "Flourish and Blotts." With a faint 'pop' Harry disappeared into the flames. Aunt Petunia fainted, Dudley's greedy eyes became large with admiration, and even Vernon allowed an amused smile to break the cast of his mouth. A second after Harry left, the fire went out similarly to a candle that runs out of wick. The only evidence of a fire was the little warmth that penetrated the bricks in the brief blaze. 


	3. How to Ruin the First Day of Happiness

                Harry fell out of the fireplace of Flourish and Blotts but broke his fall with his arms. He could never get over the dizziness such a short ride could produce. His bearing slowly returning, Harry walked down the aisle until he got to the counter. Not knowing what to do or where to go he tapped the little bell on the counter top. The soft chime echoed inharmoniously through the empty canyons between the numerous shelves of books. Spencer came around the corner, glanced at Harry, and returned his nose to his book.

                "Can I help you, sir?" He asked tonelessly, reading along as if Harry wasn't there.

                "Spencer, you invited me for the job, working here." He glanced up again, this time examining Harry more closely. 

                "Oh yes. Harry, of course. I forgot you would be disguised. Well, come back here, I'll show you around. How long did we agree you'll work?"

                "From eight to five, for two Galleons, every day."

                "That is fine, but I'm going to change yer hours to from eight to twelve…"

                "But…" Harry cut in.

                "Lemme finish. From eight till twelve and from one thirty to five. That gives yeh an hour and a half to browse, shop and eat lunch here in Diagon Alley. Is that alright?"

                "Yes" Harry said, ashamed of his outburst.

                "Yeh'r early Harry, it's only seven forty three. Why don't yeh entertain yourself in the shop awhile. Read, do homework, sleep. Other than the lifting, and helping kids get their books at the end of the summer, it is a rather boring job, and not difficult either. Call me if yeh need anything."

                "Thanks Spencer."

                "No problem." Spencer went back to his office and Harry looked around warily. He looked around for a few minutes, taking down any books that seemed interesting. Starting with the hardest assignment first, he took on his potions essay.

                "Explain  and analyze the benefits and dangers of transfiguration potions." It was straightforward enough, and Harry smiled. This was supposed to be the most difficult assignment, but with a small bit of personal experience in the second year, it may not be so bad after all. Harry sort of zoned in on his essay, using numerous books, citing countless pages. Harry began his concluding paragraph as the bell announce it was ten o'clock. Minutes later Harry had finished, and he was happy, and ready to celebrate. He was willing to bet he finished this essay faster than the legendary and beautiful Hermione Granger herself. And of course that……wait a moment, did he just think beautiful. That couldn't be right, no, his mind was playing tricks on him. Yes tricks, just like Fred and George, but Harry's marauder father was in his head playing tricks. It was the only reasonable explanation. Alright, who said reasonable was a necessary word.

                Harry forced himself to break the line of thinking. He shook his head and glanced around the shop. 'This has to be the perfect job' he thought 'getting paid for doing your homework.' He rolled up the potions essay and packed up the rest of his supplies. He fingered through some of the other books he had taken down. _Animagi: The Art of Self-Animalization _looked like what Hermione would call a good read. It was in-depth with few pictures, did he forget to mention the size of a large atlas and four thousand pages. Like he said, a good read. It was interesting and he decided he'd stop at Gringotts wizarding bank and pick up some spending money so he could get it. He put all the books he'd taken down back on the shelves and went to find Spencer.

                He went into the hall behind the counter, and found an office cluttered with boxes and books. There were some obviously very old and worn books in the incredible stacks that seems to be teetering dangerously. Harry started walking through the mess and was hauntingly reminded of the Third Task. He felt the tears begin to build up, and he strengthened his resolve and went forward into the maze, carefully avoiding some of the more unstable looking piles. He finally rounded a corner and saw a desk with a small group of men, young and old discussing something. After only a short while they said good byes and departed leaving only Spencer with his head in his hands. 

                "Spencer?" Harry asked, not wanting to disrupt the man's thoughts.

                "Ahh, yes Harry." He looked up. "I'm sorry I haven't gotten you doing anything yet. Here, you see that box over there?" He pointed to a clump of boxes. Harry was trying to judge the angle.

                "The blue one?"

                "No, the orange one there."

                "Okay"

                "Take it to James, he'll be near the front of the store if not at the counter. He'll tell you where to put them alright."

                "Yes sir."

                "What happened?" Spencer said suddenly looking behind him, at the walls of books and papers.

                "Huh?" Harry was truly bewildered.

                "Your face went very white all of a sud-Oh my. Harry, you're bleeding" Spencer touched his own forehead. Automatically Harry's hand went up to his. He touched it barely, he hand came away with a thin film of blood. His eyes went wide in fear. His scar had never bled before, except for the episode this morning. But that was wand induced. Harry couldn't ignore the growing pain in his head. 

                Spencer watched helplessly as Harry closed his eyes and began to cry quietly "Not now, god not now." And with that Harry went limp.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                _A man cowered at the foot of a throne ornately carved with snakes that had red rubies for eyes. The throne sat on a raised platform in a large underground hall. How Harry knew it was underground, he would never know, but he knew it was so. The walls were of a coarse and rough light gray stone, but the color did little for the minimal light in the room. The cave looked like it was quickly and carelessly carved out of the rock._

_                The man seated on the throne had eyes to match the rubies on his chair. He was fingering his wand and watching the kneeling man. "Lucius, are my forces ready to attack?" It was clear that the man was scared to answer._

_                "N-N-N-No master. I have failed you."_

_                "I wanted to be able to attack Azkaban today Lucius, I expected more from you."_

_                "I am sorry master, we will be ready tomorrow."_

_                "So be it……but I WANTED TO ATTACK TODAY! DO YOU DARE DEFY THE DARK LORD!?!?"_

_                "NO Master. I am sorry please. I would never defy you please, please, master. I will never fail you again."_

_                "ENOUGH!! You cannot lie to me. You are a failure. Sometimes I wonder why I let you live after you never sought me after supposedly I was gone."_

_                "If I had heard any rumors of your…" _

_                "CRUCIO" The groveling man screamed an unearthly sound for a long fifteen seconds before he was let off of the curse. "You dared to lie to me Lucius. I know you would not have come to me. You are a coward, and you will always be a coward."_

_                "M-m-master. Please."_

_                "CRUCIO" This one was short, but the yells were just as desperate, just as loud. "Lucius, we attack tomorrow, and if you are not ready, then you will watch your son and wife die slowly in front of your eyes. Wait, that wouldn't mean much for you would it. Tell me Lucius, what do you cherish, that if you are not ready you should loose?" There was a brief silence._

_                "My wealth, master. And my life."_

_                "Unfortunately for you Lucius, both are trivial. I feel that pain is the only way to get through to you."_

_                "Yes master."_

_                "CRUCIO". This one was held for much longer, until the vocals chords began emitting rivers of blood, which naturally found their way out through the mouth. The puddles began to form around the screaming body and a large black snake appeared from the shadows. It slithered to the growing pools and drank deeply while the man writhed inches away. Finally, the curse was ended and the man coughed up the blood in his throat. "Go Lucius, and do not fail me again."_

_                "Yes master" he miraculously breathed, before crawling away and out of the chamber. The snake continued drinking peacefully, and approached the seated lord._

_                "Nagini" the man hissed in the language of the snakes "tomorrow we bring them back under my command. This time, we will not fail."_

_                "Potter" the serpent hissed angrily._

_                "Yes, my pet, once I have destroyed him, you alone will drink him." The room faded away and Harry opened his eyes._

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                The world was blurry. Not because of a lack of glasses, or because of poor eyesight, but due solely to the intense pain in his forehead. He cried and seizured as the pain radiated through his body. He groaned yelled and cursed as his hand came off his forehead, covered in dark blood. As Harry was able to control the throbbing ache, he looked into the now clear world, to find Spencer with his wand out, looking noticeably nervous and confused.

                "Harry?" His voice was soft and trembling.

                "Spencer." Harry could barely say the words, his energy was drained, and he felt like sleeping forever. What a way to ruin the first good day since…it happened. 

                "Harry, are you okay, do you need anything?" He slowly approached Harry, his wand still out, his hand shaking.

                "A glass of water would be nice if possible. Do you have any owls here?" Harry's voice was inconsistent and so soft, it was very difficult to hear.

                "Owls? Yes, we have a number of them for deliveries." Spencer crouched and helped Harry sit up, leaning against a wall of boxes.

                "I need your two fastest owls. Now. Please, it's urgent." Not delaying to ask what for, Spencer ran out of the room and left Harry alone, exhausted beyond life itself, and bleeding slowly from his scar, which ached continuously, an everlasting reminder of his connection to Voldemort. Harry rummaged through his pockets and placed his ink, quill and a blank roll of parchment onto the floor. He opened the jar of ink and set it carefully next to him, and tore the parchment into two, and began to write scarcely legibly due to the drastic shaking of his hand.

                Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I had another vision/attack just now. Voldemort is mobilizing against Azkaban for an attack tomorrow. Lucius Malfoy is gathering the forces. Something else happened. This morning, when I was trying to put the concealment charm on my scar, my wand touched it. It hurt a lot. When I looked at it, it was open and bleeding, as it is now, following this attack. I don't know what to think of it. Do what you can. I am informing Mr. Weasley as well. 

Take care,

                Harry Potter

                Harry pushed it aside and began on the second parchment. He heard footsteps a distance away, and by the speed he assumed Spencer was coming soon. He dipped his quill, after three attempts to get it in the ink jar, and started on the second parchment. He heard Spencer arrive as his quill hit the parchment, but continued regardless.

                Dear Mr. Weasley,

I had a vision from Voldemort. Lucius Malfoy will be leading Voldemort's followers against Azkaban tomorrow. I know you have always wanted to capture Malfoy, and here is your chance. However, do not go if you cannot gather enough of a counter offensive. Voldemort is counting on no resistance. Let us make him regret his arrogance.  

Fare thee well,

                Harry Potter

                Harry saw that Spencer had read his letter to Dumbledore, and appeared a little anxious towards Harry, but lent him the owls. Harry secure the notes on to their legs and rubbed each of them warmly

                "I know you're both delivery owls where you just drop it off and go. I need you to wait for responses. Alright guys, off you go," were his first words that weren't neighboring silence. The owls seemed to comprehend and with an affectionate hoot the flew up and out the window. An ill at ease silence fell between them as Harry closed his eyes and tilted his head back, after blood found it's way to his eye sockets. Spencer silently passed a glass of water to Harry, who nodded a thank you before draining the glass in few large gulps.

                "I'm guessing you want an explanation." Harry said after five minutes passed, and his energy restored itself slowly. He opened his eyes and saw the man nod and make a noise of encouragement. "I can see what Voldemort is doing sometimes…" Spencer grimaced at the name but didn't interrupt. "Dumbledore thinks I have these fits, attacks, visions, whatever you want to call them, when Voldemort is feeling particularly murderous and angry, or when he is nearby. He was obviously angry this time. Lucius Malfoy didn't prepare Voldemort's army to attack Azkaban today, so they're going to do it tomorrow. I warned Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley to see if it can be prevented. Are you going to tell me why you really wanted me to work here this summer?" The was another uncomfortable silence.

                "It was a personal favor to Dumbledore. He wanted me to watch over you, make sure you were safe, and keep you busy, away from your slump, I think he put it. That's why I offered you so much to start, so you would join in. Also it would allow you to do you homework in peace. It isn't busy here at all. The school book rush every August supports us year round, so you would have a comfortable quiet. Plus here, with so many wizards around, you'd be pretty safe………I'm sorry about opening your scar this morning. I didn't know that…"

                "No one did. It may have to do with the fact that my wand has the same core as Voldemort's. My bloody scar may have thought that my wand was his, and rejected it like a virus. No one knows how or why, and no one probably will. It's one of those things." He sighed and felt his legs may be able to support him. He returned the ink and quill to his pocket before toiling to his once again unsteady feet. Spencer stood next to him and offered him support. Harry declined and walked slowly through the maze of books and boxes of books to the doorway of the office.

                "Harry, why don't you go get washed up in the bathroom, at the end of the hall, then I am forcing you on a break. Sit down, get some rest. You need it." Harry smiled forcefully and made his way to the bathroom. He staggered in and turned on the cold faucet. He looked up into the mirror and saw a pale face, thin and bony. The hair color was gone leaving greasy looking wild black hair, but the one truly scary trait was that the blood changed the colors of his eyes.

                He looked closer to see his eyes were red. It was an uncanny resemblance. He spat at his reflection "Tom Riddle." 

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Well, well, well, it seems the happy little summer as gone a bit awry, and trust me it'll get worse.(Snickers) It's not that I don't like Harry, but to become the best hero, he has to overcome the greatest odds, which includes taking a few too many steps down a rarely traveled path know as the Road of Voldemort. I hope you enjoyed. Thank you to all of my reviewers. I always thought that thanking your reviewers was lame and unnecessary, that was until I got my first review. Change my entire outlook. I'm glad for those who enjoyed my little story so far, and for those who don't there's plenty of other fan fiction out there for you somewhere.

Thanks to – Taracollowen – lella – Otaku freak – Stoneheart – renoldo9 – Bill Weasley – Caitlyn – __


	4. I Didn't Mean To

'Wonderful' thought Harry as he stared blankly into the reflection 'of all the people I could end up looking like when I look like shit I look like Tom Marvolo fucking Riddle. God, please kill me now' Harry rinsed the blood off his face and out of his eyes and hair. He grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself. He felt hungry, but knew that walking outside would be disastrous without a good concealment job on his face. 'So' he ask himself 'What is the best way to not be noticed? Why of course be noticed!' Harry whipped out his wand and pointed it at his head. He mumbled some words and smiled as his hair became a very, very, blue. He made one eye pink and the other gold, before laughing at himself. His laugh must have carried into the shop, because Spencer came rushing in pale faced and scared. He looked at Harry sternly and Harry met his glare, before both started to laugh hysterically.

"It – suits you – well  - Harry!" he managed to say between giggling fits. Harry placed his wand back into his pocket and walked with Spencer out into the main store. 

"I'll be back later, Spencer. If I'm not, I probably found a very attractive young woman to spend my time with. She'll probably have green hair and orange eyes, but hey, who needs conformity?" Spencer smirked and waved as Harry left the store, entering the bustling street. He strode silently to Gringotts and exited ten minutes later with a small bag of a couple galleons and some sickles and knuts. He thought about where to go, and decided to go with something that he knew well. Harry made his way through the crowd to the Leaky Cauldron Pub and walked up to the barkeep. 

"Tom, can I get a butterbeer, and how about some soup, anything you have is fine." Tom looked at him for a moment.

"Oh. Sure Mr. P---"

"White! Mr. White."

"Righ', jus' take any table yeh pleeze Mr. White. Yeh'r drink'll be wit ya in a flash." Harry smiled vaguely and took a table in a dark corner. He rested for only a minute before a large stein of butterbeer and a remarkably large bowl of soup were placed carefully in front of him. 

"Thank you Tom."

"My pleazure"  he stated before retreating into the lunch crowd. Harry sipped his butterbeer first, and immediately felt the warmth run lively again through his body. He sighed in relief, such as one would who has had the weight of the world lifted from them forever. Harry was surprised at how quickly he chugged down half of the stein and turn to his soup. 

Whatever it was, it did not look appetizing. It was green and lumpy, and in the very dim light of the pub it looked a bit like mud. Actually it looked identical to mud. Harry, would not have tried it had he not known of the illusions of the magical world. Sure enough, it was the best green split pea soup he had ever tasted. It was creamy, chunky, soft, and had a decent amount of ham as well. It went down easy and seemed to warm him all over. It was as if the gateway to hell had opened up from a distance, and he was basking in the warmth. Harry, tried as he would, but could not remember ever tasting soup remotely as good as this. It was heaven in a bowl, and a huge bowl at that. In spite of it, Harry finished it too quickly, and was left full to the brim, yet begging for more, metaphorically speaking. Harry gulped down the rest of his butterbeer, letting the warmth gradually find its way back to his fingers and toes. He made his way up to the bar. 

"Oi! Tom how much?" He yelled over the loud rumbling of voices.

"Four sickles, and seven knuts!" came an answer. Harry reached into his dragon-hide bag and left five sickles on the bar. He yelled to Tom a thank you before he left, and he went back into Diagon Alley. 

Harry didn't feel like returning to Flourish and Blotts just yet so he wandered around, glancing into windows. His spirits lifted a little when he saw that his Firebolt was still dominating the front display of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry restocked his personal store of parchments, quills and ink before finding himself back in front of the bookstore. He smiled mischievously that he wasn't bothered by anyone. It was like he was the same magnet as everyone else, pushing them all away……"

"Look at this freak!" Said a very familiar and cold voice. The laughs of two large and stupid boys were audible as well. "Turn you trash, and let me see your face."

"Even if I didn't know you Malfoy, I wouldn't oblige. Go do some Death Eater fun with your father. And when you see him again, ask him for me, how blood tastes." Harry took a step to Flourish and Blotts but was spun forcefully and was now facing Draco Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. 

"What did you say Potter?" Said Malfoy threateningly. Obviously everyone was fearful. Few people ever could stand up to the Malfoys, who were known to be ruthless in everything.

"Fuck yourself Draco, but then again a twisted fag like you may actually enjoy it." Harry somehow, contained his anger, well, for the present moment of course. Draco took a long while to respond. His face turning almost as red as the Weasleys' hair. Because of the lack of response, even Crabbe and Goyle were looking at Draco questioningly. 

"Kill him" he muttered so only the four of them could hear. Obviously not too smart, both Crabbe and Goyle swung at his head from different sides with different arms. The rage in Harry was uncontrollable. He stepped back quickly, just before the two bulky fists collided with each other. There was a howl of pain and the loud cracking of bones on both parts. Harry focused his anger on Draco who was now standing alone, facing a blue haired, pink and golden eyed Harry Potter. Suddenly, the colors returned to normal, black hair and green eyes. Harry's eyes flickered with wrath, and began to glow a bit like Rudolph's nose. The rest was a blur, no body could tell what order it happened in, but in the end, Draco Malfoy was a six foot long ferret, wearing robes that had somehow caught fire while flying back forty feet into the solid stone walls of Gringotts Wizarding Bank. The force of the impact set off an alarm and twenty wizards with wands drawn appeared from thin air.

They spotted the Ferret and allowed it to writhe in it's smoldering robes awhile before letting it out of the flames, and putting it in a conjured cage. The man who was obviously in command swung his wand and muttered some words. A ghost outline of the ferret in it's robes appeared, and moved backwards as the stunned into silence crowd watched again in slow motion. The ghost figure hit the wall and flew at Harry. They landed softly in front of him as a ghost of Draco Malfoy. Harry noticed that when the magic was done to him, the ghostly white changed colors. The ghost froze, before going through the same processes of hitting the wall and falling on the floor in flames. The entire alley was still in silence, so even the quietest talking amongst the security wizards was heard.

"Whas goin' on, boss?" one of the younger wizards asked, apparently confused as much as anyone else.

"Dis heya is de problem. We gots three differen' spells, right?" The young one grunted in agreement. The "Boss" held up his finger, pointing it up at the sky. "But, BUT, dey wasn't usin' no wands, see?" The young one nodded. "Which means we gots three powaful wizards about, who don't need no wand. Ya hear?" All the other security guards nodded and joined the conversation, after they had investigated the area. The boss's head popped up suddenly. "Hey anee body seen who did this here magic?" No one said anything, but all eyes turn to Harry, who unfortunately was looking like Harry, in the middle of a crowded street with thousands of eyes on him. He very slowly raised his hand.

"George! By Willy! I thought I'd neva. It's Harry Potter!" Said a red-haired middle aged man. The boss looked like he had won the Wizard Lottery, but quickly composed himself in his best artificial business like manner. He strode over to a now scared and embarrassed Harry, stumbling more than Neville ever could. Once he arrived in front of Harry, he seemed to have forgotten what to say he turned and looked around a few times, but nothing came to mind, so he faced Harry again.

"Hello Mr. Potter." He cleared his throat. "Whatcha raise yer hand fer?"

"Uhhhhh, you asked if anyone saw the, you know…" Harry motioned to Draco's cage "And I, I, I think that, I, well, maybetheonewhodidit." He spat out before he ran out of breath. To his surprise the man began to chuckle.

"You, one boy, do all three things without a wand, I doubt that." Harry was beginning to loose his nerve. This wasn't supposed to go this way. He was supposed to be punished jailed, scolded, told off, or escorted away. He was not supposed to be laughed at for telling the truth.

"Perhaps you would like a first person demonstration" Harry said in the lowest, most threatening voice he could muster. He braced himself for more laughter, but realized that George had backed up, staring wide eyed at Harry, like he was Voldemort himself. 'That was a mistake,' were the only words that could enter Harry's head as George backed away. He turned and began handing out orders. 

"Take de ferret to St. Mungos to be retransformed. Pack up de stuff, we's goin' now." The twenty guards prepared to apperate.

"Wait!" Yelled Harry from across the square. "Don't I go to a trial, prison something! Expulsion? What's going on?"

"No mate," said an unnamed guard "that's for the ministry. We only take care of criminals in Gringotts. You wasn't breaking in, we can't touch you. Nice to meet you Mr. Potter." They all disappeared with small pops, and all eyes went to Harry. Not only was it the raw display of magic that startled them. This fifteen year old boy managed, though Harry didn't know it, to scare the bejesus out of the most fearless Security Captain Gringotts' ever had. And that was an accomplishment. Harry felt his face turn red in humiliation. He had let Dumbledore down, he had failed to control himself. So he fucked Malfoy up a bit. That was nothing, compared to the consequence. 'Maybe I need anger management classes' he thought slowly, as if worried his anger would take over again. He walked into Flourish and Blotts and fell into a chair in the back of the store.

"What happened?" asked Spencer as the James boy stocked one of the upper shelves nearby. James peered down interestedly. Spencer once again looked concerned, but unfazed.

"Doesn't matter what I say. It'll be smeared all over the front page of the Daily Prophet tomorrow. There'll probably be a sub-section describing the healthy color and texture of my shit. Goddamn it, why can't I be normal. Why can't I just be average?" Spencer didn't respond, and James had lost his curiosity. 'But you can' the little voice in Harry's head  shouted 'You're not special wiht the Dursley's, in the muggle world, are you? No, there you'll be safe and hidden from the prying eyes of the wizarding world.'

"Shut up!" he yelled, earning him a shocked look from James, who almost fell off his ladder, and more of a sympathetic look from Spencer. "Spencer. I'm sorry about my behavior today, but it is not entirely my fault. I'm going home now, don't pay me for today either. I'll be here tomorrow." Harry walked over to the barrel by the fireplace, and pulled out a pinch of powder. He threw it in and shouted "the Dursleys" before he disappeared and tumbled out of the fireplace at number 4 Privet Drive.

"I've been waiting for you Harry." Harry jumped to his feet and pulled out his wand pointing it at the intruder, who was sitting quite comfortably on the sofa in the living room.

"Professor Dumbledore!"

"Yes Harry, I have some matters to discuss with you." The stress on the you alerted Vernon and Dudley that now would be a good time to leave the room, which they did with surprisingly little hostility. "I was informed yesterday of your employment, and from the way you look, I will bravely guess it did not go well. Yes, before you start I did receive your owl and came to see you  about it, but I am getting the feeling there is something else." Harry felt his eyes go straight to the floor.

"Yes sir." When no response came, Harry knew he was to continue. "Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle cornered me. Crabbe and Goyle neutralized themselves. I was angry, Malfoy actually told them to kill me. I felt it go through me, but I don't know what it was. I was too angry to care. Honestly, I have no idea why I did it. Years of suppressed rage towards him, Voldemort ordering the killing Cedric, Pettigrew betraying my parents. I, I, I lashed out. I'm not clear on everything, but he became a large ferret, and his robes lit on fire. He flew back into Gringotts, and the security wizards came. The guy in charge, George, I think, asked if anyone knew anything. I raised my hand, and he came to talk to me. I told him I did it and he laughed at me. I got mad again. I, I don't know what I did, but he became scared and they left. I was tired and came home." All of the shame and guilt began to settle, and Harry felt it's wait. He didn't know why, but he began to cry. "I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have done it. It was wrong, but, it was like I lost all control. It just happened. I tried to stop it, but it didn't work." Harry was now crying openly, and he made no attempt to hide his tears. "And, and after the attack, I went to the bathroom and I looked just like Him, Just like Riddle. It scared me. I don't want to be like him. I don't want to look like him." Harry continued his tears and sobs, and felt arms go around him. He knew he should feel awkward about Dumbledore holding him while he cried, but he cared little for such formalities. It was a while before Harry could bring himself to actually pull away from the friendly embrace. Dumbledore was uncharacteristically happy. Harry supposed he never had a son to cry on him. Typical, Dumbledore always finding the joys of life in every aspect.

                "Some say tears cleanse the soul." Dumbledore said warmly.

                "Then I guess my soul's pretty clean, huh?" Harry smiled a little, it felt good to get it out.

                "Harry, I don't want to make this sound like a test, but when Tom was your age, he had some violent outbursts as well. He regretted it, as you have, but he was never able to express his regret. That is what separates you from him. You can let out your emotions, and that is why I am no longer worried, that you may take the same road as him. At least not nearly as far." He smiled warmly. Harry knew it made him feel good. Maybe it was a fatherly smile, it sure as hell could be. "Harry, about your job, I think you should take a few days off. I know Hermione has invited you to stay with her for a few days…"

                "What?" Harry asked, perplexed by this statement. "Hermione didn't invite me anywhere."

                "Are you sure Harry?"

                "I think I would recall if Hermione asked me to go somewhere." He said thoughtfully. Dumbledore sighed.

                "This is worse than I thought Harry. It is now clear to me that your post is being read by unwanted eyes. This changes everything. I can prevent this from happening with Hedwig, but it would limit all of your letters to just Hedwig. That would limit your flexibility greatly, but I have solution, if you are willing. I can produce a pair of Speak-O-Graphs for us." He got and uneasy look in his eye, and he made sure Harry caught on.

                "What are Speak-O-Graphs?" said Harry, playing into the role.

                "They are similar to the muggle contraptions hand-held radios. However it is a secure voice connection between only the two Speak-O-Graphs. You cannot connect to anyone else's other than it's twin."

                "Oh. Then what's the problem?" The uneasy look returned to Dumbledore's face.

                "It requires the use of one of your fingernails, as well as mine. The entire fingernail, in one piece. And they can be quite painful to…remove." Harry sat down while contemplating the new twist of events.

                "So, you're asking if I'm willing to give a fingernail, the entire fingernail, to have and everlasting secure way of communicating with you, whenever, wherever. Is that it?"

                "Put simply yes, but I do not want you to be pushed into any more pain than absolutely necessary. That is why I am loathe to suggest it, but it is an option, and in these times we need to consider all of our options."

                "And what are the others?"

                "Those two are the only one's I can conceive of without in-depth research, and they are the only two I can take care of now, and here. I do not like it, but those are our choices. What do you suggest?" Harry stared down at his feet and hands, closely examining his hands.

                "I hope I can find a good manicurist, lets do them. Both of them." Dumbledore let out a deep breath and pulled out his wand. He looked into space for a second.

                "Harry, hold onto your chair. I'm not going to lie, this will hurt a lot. Which finger?" Harry examined both hands for a few long seconds. 

                "Left hand, ring finger."

                "Right, I'm sorry Harry. Make a fist it will help, just leave that finger sticking out." Harry banished all doubt, and placed the lone finger on the armrest of the chair. "Here we go…"Harry took in one long breath and held it as Dumbledore pointed his wand and shouted "_Accio._" Harry felt his whole finger and body jolt under the effect of the spell, and it was slow and torturous, as the fingernail was torn from the flesh, and flew into Dumbledore's outstretched hand. He winced as the pain set in. He watched in disgust as his blood slowly escaped the bare flesh. Dumbledore made to bandage it but Harry waved him off, afraid to open his mouth because he was shore a scream was just waiting to be let out. Showing pain in front of the Dursleys would be another bad thing to do.

                He focused on the pain, and the growing amount of blood seeping slowly out of the open wound. Harry didn't know how, but even more painfully, a new fingernail appeared and grew out of the finger until it covered the entire wound left by the other nail. His jaw was still clenched tightly, as he touched the new nail gingerly. There was a sharp and unwelcome pain, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. 

                "Let out your breath Harry, you're changing colors" Harry reluctantly agreed, and let it out. He was panting, but surprisingly felt fine, as long as he didn't touch anything with his newly grown fingernail. Dumbledore had watched the entire event with great interest. "You shouldn't push yourself so hard so soon. You are only beginning to develop magically. You must pace yourself Harry. Do you feel at all drained or tired?"

                "No. Not at all. I actually feel pretty damn good. Your turn, though isn't it?"

                "I do not need to rip mine out though. I can control it on my own. Watch closely, you'll be able to do this someday." Harry watched, awestruck, as Dumbledore's nail grew very quickly, and fell out, the new nail already in place. "Mmmm, haven't done that in a while. It does ache rather much. Alas, the disadvantages of aging" Dumbledore winked. The fingernails were placed next to each other. The aged Headmaster swished his wand methodically, while muttering words under his breath. It was amazing to watch the nails merge and explode in a bright red flash. "Harry, go into the next room. Just touch your new fingernail. It is a toggle, on off. Then just talk normally." Harry couldn't suppress his excitement as he ran into the kitchen. He touched his ring fingernail on his left hand and winced slightly at the pain. 

                "Hello?" Harry said timidly.

                "Harry, so good to hear from you." Dumbledore's voice sounded in his head. It was loud and clear.

                "This is really weird. I like it. You can call me too at need, right?"

                "If necessary, I can, the same way you called me. Now, try to cut the connection."

                "Yes sir." Harry braced and touched his fingernail again and marched back into the living room.

                "Harry, If I could just conceal Hedwig, before I go. I must be on my way soon."

                "Right," Harry sprinted up to his room and grabbed Hedwig's cage. He jogged back down with her hooting indignantly. "Sorry girl, it's for the best." He said lightheartedly as her cage swung drastically in his hand. Dumbledore stroked her gently behind her head, and muttered more indistinctive words. She nibbled Dumbledore's finger affectionately, jumped on top of her cage, and flew it back up to Harry's room. "Thank you, professor."

                "Harry, stray not too far from home or work. I want you to relax a few days before you return to work. Take it easy, and keep alert. Good Bye." He took a box out of his pocket and opened it revealing a small muggle candy. 

                "Good bye sir." Dumbledore touched the candy and disappeared. Harry slumped over in disappointment. He had enjoyed his headmaster's company, and he had so many questions yet to ask. What was going to happen at Azkaban? What did Hermione try to invite him to? What did Dumbledore mean this was the beginning of his magical development? He had already developed a lot, hadn't he? He was strong enough to produce a Patronus. Doesn't that count for something? Harry trudged sulkily up to his room. 'Damn' he thought 'now I have to stay home. Can't think of anything else more boring.'

                '_What about if you couldn't use magic. That would be worse, would it not_' His brain argued. 

                'True' he shook his head sadly, 'too true.'


	5. Hermione's House

                Harry lay on his bed trying beyond all humanly effort to push the image of Lucius Malfoy coughing up blood, while squealing like an injured animal out of his head. 'At least it replaces Cedric.' He thought blandly, before Cedric's cold wide-eyed face appeared. 'Perhaps not.' Desperate to get his mind on something else. Last night had been horrendous. He had four separate attacks in the very early morning, all taking place during the siege on Azkaban. It was a very frightful event. The majority of the Dementors mutinied when Voldemort showed up, but a strong counter offensive was unleashed by Dumbledore and some unfamiliar and familiar faces, such as Bill and Charlie Weasley, and Amos Diggory. The many Patroni lit up the battle plain as the forces were very evenly matched. It was the type of battle muggle cinematographers wished they could produce, and lucky, lucky Harry got a front row seat. Finally, when the tide distinctly and helplessly turned in favor of the Death Eaters, the few loyal Dementors were ordered to apply their kiss to any and all of the prisoners. The Lestranges amongst many other legendary dark wizards and witches had their souls sucked from their bodies by the retreating Light Army.

                Amazingly, no one died, on the light side or dark, but that was insignificant. Voldemort's rapidly increasing power was clear as day, and it was scary. Voldemort was there, of course. However, he was too strong for such trivial matters, and he needed to save himself for his siege on Hogwarts, the real challenge. Hence he did not cast one spell, but watched calmly from the watchtower. Harry had seen in his fourth vision, that many of the light side were injured. Why not ask Dumbledore who was hurt and what exactly happened? Because at some points during the siege he received from Voldemort, the picture became fuzzy. Maybe good ole Voldie got liquored up before the battle. Not such a bad idea.

                Harry touched his finger, and didn't even bat an eyebrow. It was a little sore, but the sharp pains had left, thankfully, and life went on as usual. Harry had made breakfast after washing the caked blood from his forehead, and watching that he didn't touch the throbbing scar.

                "Professor, are you there?"

                _Why yes Harry, wonderful to hear from you, as I am currently unconscious and it is boring without thoughts or people._

"Why are you unconscious? You were fine when you left the battle, I thought."

                _I was fine. I gather you watched with Voldemort._

"Yes sir"

                _I had received my share of hexes. To take them all off at the same time would be disastrous, therefore I am in a magically induced stasis so Madame Pomfrey can safely remove any unsolicited effects._

"So you're okay. Good. Was anyone else seriously hurt?"

                _Any injury can be serious, Harry. But no one is in mortal danger, so far as we know. At least the prisoners cannot rejoin Voldemort. It was one of the hardest decisions I have ever needed to make Harry, but it was necessary. Cruel and inhumane, but necessary. I am greatly saddened by it. On a brighter note, Hermione asked if it would be safe for you to visit today. I said yes, but she had no way to reach you. You have the option of spending the night there, if you desire. It seems Mr. And Mrs. Granger are eager to meet you._

"Really, I can go? When, How?"

                _By floo Harry. They are expecting you at eleven o'clock. Their address is Floss Hut, on the network. Do try not to get lost. We have enough trouble right now. Fudge still denies the rise of Voldemort, but acknowledges now, that there is a "Dark Movement in the undercurrents of our society." His words. He lost his nose to Mr. Avery, though he did not know who it was. Moody may visit you while you stay with the Grangers, do not be alarmed, and if anything happens, feel free to contact me._

"Absolutely. Thank you sir."

                _Just stay alert. Have fun. Good bye._

"Good bye professor." Harry tapped his fingernail and listened to the connection die. This could really be convenient in times of need. Harry dressed into the worst shorts and t-shirt he owned and crept quietly down the stairs and outside, where he jogged faster than the previous days. It was uneventful, unless you call retying your shoe an event. He returned to the Dursleys, showered quickly, and rushed in making breakfast. He thought about bringing his potions essay, Hermione would love to read it. He packed his rucksack with a change of clothes, some parchment, a quill and ink, and a few books. He didn't know what else he would be able to do there. He did the concealment charm once on his scar, just so it didn't look quite as red and hideous as it now did. Opening four times in one night is a lot for that small area of skin and scab, and he didn't blame it if it wanted some privacy.  He didn't know why, but he felt he should attempt to look good for her parents. I mean, parents do have the largest influence on their kids (cough, cough). At ten fifteen, Harry was ready to go. He found a seat in the living room, and opened up his Standard Book of Spells: Grade 4 to review. After staring at the first word for ten minutes, he figured it would be a good time to turn the page.

                What was he so nervous about? He would be meeting his best friend and her parents. Big deal. It wasn't like he was meeting the parents of his girlfriend or crush. I said, it wasn't like he was meeting the parents of his girlfriend or crush. 'that's not true...I mean that's right. No pressure.' He groaned as time slowly ticked away. More like disturbingly lethargic was the description of the style in which the time passed, or lack there of. Finally, after decades of glancing at the clock after every tick, it struck eleven, and Harry threw the floo powder into the fire…place. 

                "Shit" he moaned. He took out his wand, and in a flash a warm blaze crackled softly in the silent quiet house. The Dursleys were out late last night, and decided unanimously to sleep in. Hoping the flames had consumed the tossed powder, Harry carefully stepped in, and shouted  "Floss Hut." The was the familiar tug and disorienting spinning that never failed to induce nausea. Harry fell out of the fire and on to a very thick and soft carpet. He stood up and looked around.

                Nice, was the only word that came to mind. Every piece of furniture, carpet, and the foreign artifacts hanging and being displayed everywhere appeared expensive, but not conceitedly so. It was a very homely room, with white leather sofas, a few large velvet reclining armchairs. It made the Dursleys look poor, and the Weasleys' even worse. 

                "Hello" he smirked as it echoed through the vast rooms and halls. There was a light patter of feet, and Hermione, wearing a very attractive green sundress and nothing on her feet stood in the door way, or garage sized opening, whichever you prefer.

"Harry!" she shrieked and she ran into him, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace. 

"I missed you" he whispered into her ear before he could stop himself. As a friend he shouldn't be saying that, should he? Nah. The damage was done, though, and Hermione was blushing faintly as she pulled away. Two adults walked into the room, and smiled warmly at Harry.

"Oh. How rude of me! Harry, these are my parents, Ivy and Richard, but we all call him Rick." These two new people brought on an internal dilemma for Harry. The BIG question. How do you greet your best friends parents? Girlfriends are easy, you shake their father's hand, and the same to the mother. Polite yet formal. Friendships were informal, so with the father you shake hands…

"Hello Mr. Granger, nice to meet you."

"Rick, please." Okay, that was easy, now the mother. How are you supposed to greet her? A handshake is too formal, as is a kiss on the hand. That could go down the wrong way, bad idea. Kiss on the cheek, just as bad if not worse. A hug could work. Can be informal yet intimately polite. That's good…I think. 

"Mrs. Granger, or Ivy. It's a pleasure." He quickly wrapped his arms around her for a second before pulling back. She was very surprised by his instant affection, but recovered wonderfully.

"Ivy, and the pleasure is all ours. How was your trip, dear?"

"Dizzy, very dizzy. If there was any other way I would have taken it" he smiled, they seemed to like him enough. So he hadn't failed horribly, yet. He noticed as they discussed some minor points of Harry's life, Mr. Granger kept shooting him sly looks. 'Oh god' Harry thought 'what's wrong? What have I done?'

"…show him to his room, sweety." Finished Ivy, flashing Harry her perfect teeth. Hermione nudged him into the hallway and up the stairs. She was grinning and was very jumpy. He took note of this.

"What is making you so hyper? Snuck some sugar into the house?" he laughed as she playfully slapped him.

"Just because my parents are oral hygienists doesn't mean that I don't get my share of sweets."

"As long as they're lacking in sugar." He smirked

"God, if only you knew what torture it is" she smiled "but you made it. I was worried, I haven't heard from you. Thought maybe you weren't coming. Your in here." She pointed.

"What, not come and visit you? You think I'd rather stay with the Dursleys?" He looked around the room. It was just as comfortable as any room he had ever see. A large four poster bed, two elegant chairs that reminded him of the armchairs in the Gryffindore Common Room, a dresser and a large mirror which were very well detailed, and polished to a shine. 

"Well, I didn't know what to think." She finished quietly. He sat in one of the chairs as a tapping on the window announced the arrival of an owl. Hermione ran over and unlatched the pane, letting a snowy owl entry. The owl to both of their surprise went straight to Harry. It carried a note and newspaper.

"Hello Hedwig. Thank you" He said after removing the bundle.

Hey Harry, 

Get this, some stranger heard of Fred and George's plans for a joke shop and gave them one thousand Galleons to help them start. Mum is furious, and demands to know who it is, but get this. They even stood up to her death stare and downright refused. She looked like she was going to cry. 

I sent you this paper to try to cheer you up. Some group of people turned Malfoy into a ferret, set him on fire, and threw the vermin into Gringotts, all in one blow. Front page. It was done without a wand, so it will take six weeks for him to change back. He'll miss most of the summer. Isn't life grand. He is no longer Draco Malfoy; The Amazing Bouncing Ferret, but has been promoted to Draco Malfoy; The Amazing Bouncing, Flying, Flaming Ferret. Has a nice ring to it. Fred and George already started on a candy to have the same effect, and name them Funny Ferrets.

Oh. This is supposed to be a real big secret. Bill and Charlie just showed up at like four this morning. Everyone was sent to bed. I snuck down and guess what? Azkaban was attacked. They didn't expect for any light people to be fighting, so it got pretty bad. Nobody died, thank god. I couldn't hear much, but I think You-Know-Who himself was there, but didn't do anything. It seems a bit odd, but oh well, what're you going to do. Dumbledore told us that we can only send you mail by Hedwig, so be sure to send her around every so often. 

See you soon,

                Ron

P.S. Were still trying to get you to stay here with us this summer, but no luck so far. I'll update you when something happens.

"God no." Harry groaned. Hermione read the letter over his shoulder and sighed.

"I know, they went after Azkaban. It's going to get bad."

"It's not that. It's Malfoy. I know his father is going to come after me now. I can't believe this. Six bloody weeks until he's human again. I cannot believe I did that."

"You, you made him turn into a ferret?"

"And set him on fire, and threw him into Gringotts setting off the alarm."

"How, were not that well trained yet in transfiguration, and how did you do all three, they're different spells."

"I did it without a wand, or any incantations. It was all straight magic. He actually told Crabbe and Goyle to kill me. Can you believe someone our age trying to murder someone else? It made me angry and disgusted. I took it out on Malfoy. Dumbledore knows it was me. One of the security guards, George. He laughed at me, when I told him it was me. I got angry again and something must have happened, 'cause he got really scared and ran. Also, the only reason the light was at Azkaban to hold off the attack  was because I saw Voldemort torture Lucius Malfoy for not being ready yesterday. And to top it all I'm the ones who gave Fred and George the thousand Galleons to start Weasley Wizard Wheezes. Why me god? Why do I have to be in the middle of everything? It always has to be me." He whined. Hermione looked at him skeptically.

"Let's go downstairs and do something before lunch. It'll be so much more fun with you here." He took a deep breath and clasped her hand as she led him from the room.


	6. Not Again

                "Come on, Harry, what do you want to do?" She pressed the subject, desperately wanting him to enjoy his stay.

                "I really don't know. I've never really lived to enjoy things in a muggle environment." He didn't know what to enjoy, or what there even was to enjoy. This was sad. He had all options available for once and absolutely no idea where to begin. Fun, in the muggle world was nonexistent, hence with the forced introduction of it into the untamed habitat, he felt a bit peculiar.

                "We have all day to do whatever we like. Surely you must…"

                "Oh no you don't. Rules are rules. You owe homework time until lunch at 12:30 sharp." 'Ouch' Harry thought 'Not a woman to cross.'

                "But mum, Harry is here, and he just arrived. Can you make an exception just this once? Please?" she whined vainly.

                "No. You need to discipline yourself. You'll thank me someday." Harry couldn't refuse this opportunity. It was the Golden Snitch hanging two inches above his palm. To reject would be blasphemous. 

                "What's this I hear? Three days into summer vacation and Hermione still has unfinished homework? The shame!!! And even worse. It's horrific! She doesn't WANT to do her homework. It's a scandal! What will Ron think of you!?!? Nevermind Ron. What about all of Hogwarts!?!? McGonagall will be so displeased." Harry began to chuckle. He noticed Ivy's very stern look (that's where Hermione gets it from) soften and gaze interestedly up and down Harry's body. He swore she licked her lips. 'Probably just parched right. It is a bit dry.  And that look means nothing. She was just making sure I have no deformities, especially on my ass.' He was too busy laughing to care. Hermione gave her best You're-Not-Helping-Things look, but blushed in failure instead.

                "Besides dear, Your father and I would like to speak to Harry for a while. Get to know the stranger in our house" She smiled, no smirked at him. 'No, no, no, No, No, NO. NO! NO!!! She did not wink at me. I'm just being paranoid. And her smile is that way because, because she um, finds my Dudley cast offs adorably…something. Quite right. I am adorable, and she wishes she was my mother. Oh it all fits so perfectly. She feels sorry that I never had motherly affection and wants to give me some.' He fell out of his trance to watch Ivy walk away and Hermione turn to him, very exasperated and partially out of breath.

                "So what exactly is happening?" He asked cautiously. He knew when Hermione tried so hard to get something and failed, should would not be in the mood.

                "I have to do homework. I hate it when she does that. Everything in this house is planned, from the daily activities to the times of meals. The probably even plan their bathroom visits. I get no freedom, no breathing space. I need to stretch my wings a bit you know…Like I should talk, you have the Dursleys." She buckled her knees and fell heavily onto the stairs. He took a seat next to her, and seeing her distress, place his arm carefully around her. It's not like he enjoyed this position. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea. He was just comforting. 

                "They're a lot better since Dumbledore told them I could do magic at home. Don't worry, I'll escape to see you as soon as possible. I have something for you." He grinned mischievously. 

                "What?"

                "I don't know exactly, but I think you'll like it." 

                "What is it?" He dropped a rolled piece of parchment into her lap. She opened it and began to read. "This is really very good, where did you get it?"

                "I'm insulted" he said in mock disgust "I wrote that myself!"

                "Really, Harry. Where. You don't have access to these books. It is your handwriting though. Fine, who's did you copy?"

                "I copied no one's. Why do you have such low views of me. I wrote the goddamn essay myself!"

                "See, I knew the truth would come out in the end." His jaw hung open, and he was about to start smearing some language when her hand gently closed his mouth for him. His senses immediately froze. He attributed it to shock, but put on an angry face anyway. "Now, where did you get the books from?" A smile was still playing at the corners of her moist, pink, tender lips. Forget he thought that.

                "I wanted to wait to tell you later, but Dumbledore got me a job this summer. I work at, you'd love this, Flourish and Blotts. There isn't much to do so I get to do my homework in peace. There are so few people, it's a wonder the store stays open."

                "That's great! But I always remember it being a bit full of people."

                "That's because you've always been there during the back to school rush, silly."

                "I suppose……You had better go to the interrogation, before my parents get upset. I have to do my homework, and read this essay you have the nerve to call your own." He smiled warmly at her. Even when upset she was able to smile. It moved him deeply. He gave her a friendly kiss on her temple, and stood solidly. 

                "Good luck, I'll see you later, then we can do all that stuff you call fun." He noticed she was a touch pink in the cheeks, but it didn't matter, he was off the face the parents. He was lucky, oh so lucky. He'd rather do homework over this any day.

                He calmly entered the large living room, containing a very long, perhaps thirty foot long, sleek, black leather sofa along the far wall, stretching the entire way. Ivy and Rick were chatting idly away so he took a moment to more loosely examine the room. It was large, vaguely reminiscent of the Gryffindor Common Room. It had countless seats, chairs, sofas, even a particularly nice looking stool. The entire ceiling was covered with glass, giving it a greenhouse feel. Plants grew everywhere, some distinctly tropical, with large beautiful blooms and large green leaves. On the walls were paintings and art of all types and tastes, some colorful, some bland, abstract and realistic. It truly was an experience to be in this room. Ivy noticed him and waved him over. He groaned but allowed his body to go over to them. Ivy was reclining, leisurely on the long black sofa, and Rick in a purple armchair across from her. This made him slightly glad, as he would only have to face once and sit next to the other. He sat beside Ivy, leaving a healthy two feet  between their bodies.

                "Harry, dear, tell us all about the magical world. We'd love to hear of it from another perspective. Tell us everything, as it is so very fascinating." He groaned inwardly. So they wanted to know everything. Probably his life story. He hated explaining his life story, it always brought about pity, and pity was one of the few things he detested. To be pitied was for him to be weak. You have to work with what you have, not let others weep over what you don't have.

                "Well, I guess I can tell you what I know about my past…" and so it began. He told of his first encounter with Voldemort, what little he knew of his parents, growing up with the Dursleys, though, when describing the Dursleys, he sugarcoated it more than a candy apple. He could tell they weren't buying it. 'Hermione talks too much' he mumble to himself as he continued about their first year, second year, third year, Quidditch, and finally fourth year. This was the first time he was able to discuss Cedric's death, and the events at the end of the third task without openly weeping. He shed only a dozen tears and kept his voice calm and steady. He remembered he hadn't even told Hermione or Ron what happened. The shit was going to fly. He finished after an hour and politely asked to see how Hermione was managing with her schoolwork.

                "In a minute, Harry. Just a few things we want to know before you leave our little chat…" Harry consented and Rock leaned closer. "Are you and Hermione, how do I say this, together?"

                "I'm afraid I don't understand." He frowned.

                "Are you dating, darling?" put in Ivy, who was tingling with anticipation, at least her honey eyes were.

                "Oh. No, no were only friends" he felt the word echo in his head but shook it off. A lot of small things were beginning to unnerve him, all he had to do was refocus.

                "Alright, then, got that out of the way…" Rick leaned in closer if it was possible "What about her grades? We see that she does well, but is she really doing well? Is she anywhere near the top of the class? Does she understand the material?" In spite of himself, he laughed loud and clear. Surely this was a joke. He couldn't stop for a few minutes, and only when he examined their sour faces did he realize they had misunderstood.

                "Hermione…" he coughed "is by far the most studies oriented witch in the bloody school, pardon my language. She is too modest if you do not know that she is the top of every single class she takes. People beg her to tutor them and she does so. It is a given that she will end up Gryffindor prefect this year, and if she maintains her grades, Head Girl. She is the most brilliant student Hogwarts has seen in a long while, and the betting odds point to her setting a new record for most Ordinary Wizarding Levels ever gotten. I may bet against her, just because if by chance she doesn't, I will be very rich." He chuckled at their unsure faces. "I'm being one hundred percent honest here. How could she not have told you. My god." He shook his head in humor and surprise. She must never speak with her parents.

                "So she does well?" Asked Ivy, still skeptical.

                "She does the best of anyone." There was a long awkward silence. "Can I, um…" he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the staircase. He really wanted to go, and perhaps eat something. Long talks tend to make the body hungry. Ivy appeared to not want Harry to go for whatever reason, but Rick allowed him to go, and he casually rose from his position and strode confidently from the room. The interrogation was not entirely a success, but he had dragged through it smoothly and effectively. He thought they were a bit snobbish, not as much as many people, but it was still there. They didn't present themselves as very concerned parents, but who needed to be concerned when you have a kid like Hermione. She practically took care of herself.

                He jogged quickly up the stairs, fearing they would remember something to ask him and call him back. He found his room without trouble, and was glad to see it was still there, but he was at a loss to locate Hermione's room. He went down the hall checking behind every door on the left before crossing over to the right and checking every door on that side. He found a room that only had one word to describe it, wood. It had a polished wood floor, wood plated walls, wooden furniture, wooden bed, wooden desk and chair, wooden bookshelves, which held a lot of books, even the lamps were wooden. It all matched very well, and gave a natural homely type of feel. He could live there.

                His attention turned to the bushy mop of hair slumped over the desk, a quill being dipped and scratched carefully yet rapidly over the thick parchment. He smiled at her, the way she always was able to just focus and succeed never ceased to surprise him. He tiptoed behind her and read over her head a bit. She had four different books laying in front of her, two open to Polyjuice Potion, a potion used to transform you into a different person for one hour. A different book was opened to Animatious Potion, a potion which allowed the transformation into your natural animagus form. The last book was hand written, neat but much more disorganized than her usual work. "_I can't believe him. Ron has absolutely no regard for authority, and I think his outbursts are immature and silly. He rarely does his schoolwork and is irresponsible towards the feeling of others. The there's Harry. Harry is so wonderful. He's caring and gentle and always willing to lend you his heart and his ear. He tries to hide his pain, passing it off as insignificant, even to me. Because of his modesty I bet he thinks he is minor in the world. If only he knew how important he is to me._" Harry nearly choked on his tongue. He was reading Hermione's diary, the most deep and dark secrets of her soul. 'Wrong, Harry, very wrong.' He scolded himself a few more seconds before he went back to looking at her. She seemed stiff, tense, anxious and composed all at the same time. She really needed to learn how to relax.

                Instinctively his hands went to her shoulders. She jumped a little but continued writing whatever she was writing. He noticed her diary closed and was hidden in a drawer. He began to knead her shoulders softly, working the soft skin into her muscles. She stopped her writing and sat back sighing. He continued in silence, enjoying the obvious pleasure she was in. Her head tilted back and she looked up at him. It took all the restraint in the world not to try to look down the neck her dress. Her eyes fluttered very slowly, as if time was put on hold. He stared down at her with a sympathetic smile on his face.

                "Do you feel any better now?" She didn't trust herself to look into his infinite emerald depths any longer and closed her eyes. She purred softly and rotated her head on her neck.

                "It feels superb. Mmmmm. More on the neck." His hands gradually made their way to her neck, massaging her flesh. His warm hands on her body, partially on her bare skin drove her wild. She couldn't control the sighs and mumblings and moans that were inclined to escape her mouth. From the moment he began, she fell in love…with his skilled hands, that knew exactly how to touch her, and in the right places as well. "Harder" she said softly, desperately wanting his hands to wander. For a few minutes his hands worked tirelessly against her neck and shoulders until she took a long, deep breath in and out. He stopped and pulled her chair out from the desk, before walking in front of her. Her eyes opened slowly, and she was panting lightly.

                "Do you feel any better now?" He spoke barely above a whisper. She looked deep into his eyes, and saw the joy that his pallid face hid. She responded unconsciously, leaning into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulling him into a firm hug. She pulled back just a little, enough to kiss him unyieldingly on the cheek. "That good, huh?" He chuckled.

                "You're magnificent." She resumed the tight embrace, and his arms went around her as well. He let go and she follow, after placing another kiss on his cheek. It was getting to be a familiar action, but it still made him feel…he hated to use the word, but it made him feel all warm and, yes, fuzzy inside. Like stepping out of the cold and just letting himself warm up in front of the fire. She was smiling very attractively at him. He stood straight up again and smiled back at her pink cheeks. Was it him or was she doing this a lot lately? It was probably just him.* 

                "It's almost time for lunch. Maybe we should start going down." She checked her -wooden- clock and glanced suspiciously at him.

                "We have twenty minutes to ourselves and you want to abandon it. What happened."

                "You're going to be a bit mad at me." She sighed audibly, just to make him sure her desire for the suspense was waning. He continued sullenly. "You parents are good at persuading information out of me. They asked about, you know, and I told them. I meant to tell you, but I don't want you worried or scared. I love y…your smile and I don't want it crushed by Voldemort's evilness. You're so pretty when you're happy, and I don't want to ruin it with my, my, my…experience" he finished lamely. He expected her to be a bit upset, worried, left out, even jealous, but to his surprise and great relief, she wasn't. She hugged him again and began to whisper in his ear. He only listened a little, as her breath tickling his earlobe was a  pleasant distraction.

                "I'm just glad you could talk about it at all. I don't want you to tell me if it won't make you feel better."

                "You deserve to know."

                "I don't deserve much from you Harry. You've been the best friend a girl could ask for."

                "You lie through your teeth."

                "I would never…." He sat on the floor next to her chair, leaning his head against it. Feeling a little isolated sitting up in a chair alone, she slid off and sat across from him. He nibbled his lip, mustering up the courage again, to reveal his most painful moment.

                "I'm going to tell you any way. Just…don't interrupt me. It'll go easier if I can just get it all out. I guess it begins in the hedge-maze. I got through a few obstacles, and heard Cedric yell…" Harry continued while Hermione listened as the events replayed themselves in front of his eyes. When he finished, Hermione was wide-eyed, but quiet. He supposed she knew fussing over this would be worse than futile. They sat in comfortable silence for a while. It was the first time he could remember rendering Hermione truly speechless. She gave him another squeeze before putting his hand in hers. He forced a smile. 'At least he's trying' she said to herself, over and over again. She knew that someway, he would get through this.

                "So…" she began lamely, trying desperately to move on from the topic. It was apparent he didn't desire to continue after closing his story. She smiled at him, trying to cheer him up. He wasn't supposed to be sad today, he was supposed to be laughing and happy and playful. He was staring at her through eyes threatening to tear. Unable to think of anything to say she stood up, and paced over to her bed. "OH! How about lunch, you must be hungry." His head perked noticeably, and she smiled inwardly. Lunch was a start.

                "Yeah, lets go to lunch, shall we? And then what do you have in store for me?" He jumped to his feet in anticipation.

                "Um, we could, go shopping?" They walked together out of her room, and down the hall.

                "Nah, something else."

                "Do you have swimming trunks? We opened the pool yesterday. It may be a little cold but nothing too harsh."

                "Sounds alright. What else is there?"

                "We could just relax, read, sleep, anything you like." He sighed and let the ideas run through his head. 'It would be a nice day for snogging' he thought. Why that idea came to awareness he would never know. Maybe he was longing for someone to love. Back on the subject at hand.

                "Swimming sounds good, I can transfigure my shorts into trunks. Behold, the power of magic." He poked her roughly. She laughed and shrieked, before jumping away. She returned swinging for a slap which he expertly ducked.

                "Harry James Potter, just because you get special treatment doesn't mean you have to rub it in my face" she snarled through a giggle.

                "I get special treatment, do I? Perhaps I should give you special treatment!" He began to tickle her and she screamed in laughter, before launching into a sprint. He maintained his position next to her, behind her, and on the other side as well, relentlessly tickling her to the bring of suffocation. That is how they entered the dining hall, red faced and laughing hysterically. She leaned on him for support, but in his hooting state he was in no shape to support her, and they fell onto the floor together, drawing them into another fit of snorts of laughter. It took a long two minutes for them to calm themselves down, aching from a lack of oxygen. Ivy and Rick were looking at them strangely, so they hushed themselves and took their respective seats at the large Mahogany Table, and matching velvet upholstered chairs. The dishes were of the finest china, and the silverware was…silver, actually. Harry felt very out of place.

                "Dear, may I ask what was so funny that made you five minutes late for lunch as well act like a child when you finally arrived?" Ivy spoke with clear disappointment in her voice. Harry was surprised by how quickly Hermione threw it off. She was often one to weep when a professor talk to her with a disappointed tone, but then again, parents weren't professors. Hermione looked up at Harry a winked before chortling softly.

                "Honestly, Mum? I've no idea, but it was quite enjoyable, and I wouldn't miss it again for anything." She turned pink, and Ivy hmphed to herself. Rick checked to see that Ivy wasn't looking before sending a reassuring smile Harry's way. He would always be grateful for Rick's understanding. If he only knew it would save his life in the future. 

                Harry felt a slight twinge in his scar. He jumped up knocking over the chair and he quickly glanced around; the expensive dishes, silver food ware, and crystal glasses. The Grangers were all looking at him strangely. "Fuck!" was the only word he used to describe the situation, and it did not settle well with Rick or Ivy, who looked both offended and startled. He touched his fingernail quickly, desperately needing to tell Dumbledore, as the pain slowly increased.

                "Professor!" he said aloud, earning him weird stares from the three.

                "_Yes, Harry, how are you?_"

                "Sir, I'm going into another attack"

                "_Try to control the pain Harry, but I need you to let it happen. You are the most reliable source of information we have._" Harry clenched his jaw as the prickling pain escalated more rapidly. He got an idea and tossed his wand to Hermione. She caught it out of fright.

                "Tie me up" he groaned through a closed mouth.

                "I'm not allowed to do mag…"

                "Goddamnit! Hermione do it!" The last thing he saw before he fell into nothingness were ropes flying at him from the tip of his wand.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

*= PUN INTENDED!!!

I know some of you don't like cliffhangers, I don't, but it is the only logical place for me to stop right now, so I'm sorry, but what do you want me to do? Thank you to all of my reviewers, arcee, Stoneheart, RJLL, prongsjr, and especially Taracollowen, who keeps coming back. Thank you all, and may the sun shine brightly one your faces.

I won't ask you (other) people to review, because if you are going to, I appreciate it greatly, but if you aren't than there isn't much I can do about it is there? I don't know exactly where this should go yet. I have create a few scenes I like (in my head), but I am always open to input and suggestions. Fare well on the path you choose.

Special Note to ---Stoneheart---; I went over all my previous chapters and made corrections. YAY!!! Well, I made most of them. I hope you keep reading, =Nighttime Sunshine=


	7. The Heart Wrenching Plan

_                The field was cold and dark, drawing all forms of evil to feast in it's bitterness. The field was empty, void of any life save the few blades of yellow grass that somehow managed to survive. A slow, unsteady breeze stirred across the tundra, promising frozen death to any who challenged it. The was a faint 'pop', but the noise of the dead grass trembling with the wind his the noise from any ears. A tall, sickly, pale man stood, with slits for eyes that were the color of blood. He smiled, finding a place as cold as his heart. Seconds later a second man appeared, he was short and balding at a surprisingly young age, and he shook violently, as a combination of fear, anxiety and biting cold demanded his reaction. He muttered some please, before screaming as the Dark Lord touched his bare, left forearm. Men began to appear in the icy environment, all shuddering immediately on arrival. They kneeled before their master, kissing the hem of his robes and forming a circle around him. _

                His anger, hatred, frustration, and wrath was about to be felt by them, and they knew it. They shifted carefully, knowing that showing anything but worship to their master would result in pain unimagined. He paced slowly, letting them feel the unforgiving cold, as they so truly deserved. After a few minutes he began his mental torture of them, which was almost as fun as their physical pain. The twelve of them looked on fearfully, anticipating his fury.

_                "So my FAITHFUL death-eaters have come. Do you know why I have called you all here? Hmmm? Lucius."_

_                "I know not, my lord."_

_                "No one ever does know anything do they. Someone knows something though, yes they do. We have a spy among us. One of Dumbledore's little pets. I admit, I suspected Severus of being a spy, but I had no idea the spy would be this high up in my organization. For only you, all of you knew of my attack on Azkaban, and could have alerted the light, yet somebody did. And it irks me that one of you must be he. Who won the battle, Forscythe?"_

_                "We did my lord."_

_                "CRUCIO!" He yelled, as the wind swallowed the scream of the writhing man. The spell was ended and the pacing skeleton like figure continued._

_                "No. We won Azkaban, but what was the purpose of our little expedition? To steal an ugly little island? What was our objective Trothington?"_

_                "To free your loyal followers, my lord."_

_                "Yes, but were we able to free them?"_

_                "No, master."_

_                "No, NO!!! We did not free them, as they are now prisoners of their own bodies, but it tells us something doesn't it. Dumbledore will not just order the Dementor's kiss, he is too noble. It shows his desperation. He is weak, with few followers, and will do cruel acts to try to delay the inevitable. Did not the prophecy say 'The great one will die by his own spell, yet from the ashes like a phoenix he shall rise to glory unmatched'?  I present to you myself, the great one. Dumbledore must know this, for he is not easy to daunt, yet daunt him I have. But that still leaves a spy in our midst. Will you speak now, or must I force it our of you?" Silence. "So be it" He pulled out his wand and looked carefully around the ring. From him the Cruciatus Curse flew everywhere, hitting every one of the Death Eaters, freezing the air with screams of pain. "Step forward and the pain ends, who is the spy?" This continued for what seemed like an hour. Each and every Death Eater writhing in pain, until blood came out of their mouths and ears. One coughed up blood, but a chunk of flesh came out of his mouth as well.       _

_                Harry felt like throwing up, but in this plane of existence, it wasn't possible. Finally, convinced that there must have been some other way the light side discovered his plans, he let them lay in their misery. The scene appealed to him. Twelve of his slaves cringing opposite him covered in their own blood, and begging for death to end their pain. They would get it someday, yes death always finds it's targets._

_                "Now do you know why you do not betray me?" There were a few mumbles of 'yes, master' and 'yes, my lord' but that did not appeal to him. "I asked a question, and I expect and answer. Do you wish not to answer me?" Some answered the first question again, louder than before, but many answered the last question with the appropriate no, creating a deadly contrast. They all thrash as  the Cruciatus Curse made its way around the circle, engulfing them all. "Do you wish not to answer me?" he repeated, obviously enjoying their confusion. A unified no fell flat and disappeared on the tundra. "Well, then. Do you know why not to betray me?" A strong 'Yes, my lord' found its way through the growing wind to him. Most of the Death Eaters were still on the ground, groveling with unseen spirits to be let go of the pain they had felt. _

_                "You now have a new mission, a new purpose in life you might say. I hear that Potter can use the Floo network, but only he can use his terminal. YOU will find a way to get in. Is that clear?"_

_                "Yes, Master/My Lord."_

_                "Good, go home you petty trash. We will meet again very soon." Some were slower than others to muster the strength to apperate away, but their desperation drove on regardless of any consequences. Harry felt the tug of his spirit leaving the temporary existence and returning to his body._

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ 

                Harry's pain was terrible, but not nearly as bad as the attack the day before. He felt a soft towel dabbing gently at his scar, probably bleeding. He didn't feel at all like screaming, and decided to check all of his body parts. He flexed his fingers and his toes minimally, just to make sure they were still there. He forgot where he was, but felt comfortable with his head on a solid warm pillow.

                "_Harry_" a familiar voice said in his head. Harry knew what it was, but was too tired to talk back. He just thought of his words strongly, hoping they would make the journey.

                "Yes professor?" Even his head-voice was coarse and cracked from pain. He thought that was rather amusing.

                "_Harry, you never disconnected us before you went in. You pulled me in with you. Although I could not see your vision, I could hear it, and it is more helpful than you can imagine._"

                "But it was my fault. They were tortured because I was the spy." Harry felt a few cool finger caress his face. He automatically relaxed desiring the sensation never to end.

                "_Do not feel guilty Harry. Those men, Mr. Malfoy, Julian Forscythe, and William Trothington have all done acts with more evil than I am comfortable speaking about. They may not have deserved their pain, but maybe they should feel it anyway. We need you to continue to inform us of everything that you see. Where were they Harry?_"

                "The arctic. It was cold and icy. I'm really tired. I think I'm going to take a nap."    

                "_An excellent idea Harry. Relax. Don't bother closing the link, I'll do it._" Slowly Dumbledore's voice drifted away. Harry wrapped his arms around the pillow and nestled tightly into it's firmness, savoring it's warmth and slight vanilla smell. He let out a deep breath, feeling the fingers run over his face and slowly fell into sleep.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                The doorbell ringing woke Harry up. Pleased that his now favorite pillow was still there, he smiled. He let go of the pillow and rolled onto his back, so the light of the room cast a red glow through his eyelids. When they adjusted to the light he opened them slowly. He was more than a bit shocked to see Hermione looking down at him, her eyes holding back tears and very bloodshot. She was staring at his face, but didn't seem to notice that his eyes opened. She really was a beautiful person. He was lucky to have a friend like her. He raised his hand and touched her cheek. She was startled, but recovered with a unnatural smile.

                "I'm alright" he whispered. He tried to say it but he supposed his voice box wasn't going to respond properly. It never did.

                "Good, we were all so worried. After you went out an owl came in saying I broke the law and threatened expulsion…"

                "I'm sorry. However, I'm sure Dumbledore will vouch for you."

                "Honestly, I didn't care. I was so scared that, that…that I nearly died." He now noticed his head was on her lap. Not on a pillow. He would have laughed at himself, but he held back. He knew it wasn't the time, though the place worked out fine. He sat up slowly, and glanced around. He was in the large hall, on the long sofa. He swung his feet off the sofa and sat next to her. She immediately threw her arms around him and cried into his chest. He couldn't help but feel this was a little dramatic, but let her cry on him. What are friends for. Voices in the next room caught his attention. He listened closely while he cooed comforting words into her ear.

                "Now, we let you in, what do you want?" said Rick, he was understanding as always but frank this time. It gave him the edge in strange conversations.

                "I need to see Potter." Said a gruff demanding voice that sounded familiar, but it was too quiet to know for sure.

                "I'm afraid you can't. He just had a nasty seizure and is indisposed." Ivy couldn't keep the arrogant contempt from her voice. Harry really didn't like her much, her face was two sided. 

                "Ahah. So Potter had another little chat with You-Know-Who? Well, he saved quite a few lives last time, you only made me need to see him more."

                "He is asleep…sir. I do not wish for you to wake him. I'm not the expert, but I believe the attack was hard on him."

                "Firs' of all. Harry ain't asleep. My pretty little eye can see through walls, invisibility cloaks and much more. He is sitting wide awake trying to listen to us. Second of all, our most important leader against the dark side is unconscious and Harry is the only bloody person in the world who can communicate with him right now, so if you please, I need to speak with him." There was no response from the Grangers. He supposed they signaled the man to follow, because there was a clunking of a wooden peg for a leg on the floor. Rick, Ivy and a very scarred man with very uneven clumpy hair enterer. He gave a scary smile on his contorted face. "Ah, Mr. Potter. How are you?" Harry saw how this may look, with Hermione crying on him in front of her parents and the scary old man. Hermione turned to face them and sat back next to Harry. She covered her face, wiping the tears away, but her crying had ended.

                "Professor Moody." Harry nodded to him.

                "What'd you see. I hear you had another listen in with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." The Grangers were looking at Harry funny. Was that pity, compassion, or disgust? It took him a second, but he remember it from Cornelius Fudge after the Third Task. Fear. They feared him. They were looking at him with horror. It made him feel very uncomfortable, and he returned his attention to Moody.

                "Um, yeah. He was mad at his Death Eaters supreme. He thinks that because of the resistance in Azkaban one of his top eleven or Wormtail is a spy for Dumbledore. They got it bad. If he only knew I was the spy." Moody launched into laughter. 

                "Good! Good, it's what those dirty bastards deserve. Now, I'm not familiar with these Speak-O-Graphs. I'm not that involved with the new technology coming out. So you mind asking Dumbledore what he wants us to do with the captured Dementors." Harry touched his finger, and Hermione was fascinated. She had never heard of Speak-O-Graphs.

                "Headmaster, Moody wants to know what you want to do with the captured Dementors."

                "_Good afternoon to you too Harry._" Harry could hear the headmaster chuckling.

                "Sorry."

                "_Don't worry about it Harry. Tell Alastor that I feel it would be best if we destroyed them when the proper arrangements can be made._"

"He says to destroy them when the arrangements can be made." Harry responded.

                "Ask him where he wants us to hold the Death Eaters."

                "_Harry, I can hear everything you hear, so don't bother asking me._"

                "Oh. In that case, Moody…just talk to me like I was Dumbledore."

                "_We can't put the Death Eaters in Azkaban can we. Tell him to consider the hidden dungeons of Hogwarts, that or the war bunker at Bedford._"

                "The hidden dungeons at Hogwarts, or the war bunker in Bedford." Moody flashed Harry a smile.

                "What about you Albus. How are you doing?"

                "_I am jaded in this near lifeless state. I do appreciate your concern, but I assure you I'm fine._" Unable to paraphrase the statement, he repeated to Moody word for word.

                "Alright, there anything you need us to do Albus?"

                "_No, just be watchful as usual, Thank you for visiting me._"

                "He thanks you for coming and says be watchful."Harry said, learning for the first time that being caught in the middle of a conversation is indeed no fun.

                "Your welcome Albus. Thanks Potter. I'll be on my way, then." Moody stood up and clunked his way out of the room, and eventually out of the house. The Grangers were all left staring at Harry, in disbelief.

                "What?" he said in annoyance. He hated when he was the center of attention.

                "Harry, you can talk to Dumbledore?" Hermione said tentatively. He frowned. Now even she was scared of him.

                "_They're not taking it well, are they?_"

                "Yes, Hermione. No, headmaster."

                "_Harry, you don't need to speak for me to hear you. You just have to project your thoughts. You did so just after the vision. You don't need to speak to chat with me._"

                "I've never heard of Speak-O-Graphs before" she said, obviously expecting him to explain.

                "Wait up a bit. Headmaster, I can't have two separate conversations simultaneously. I'll talk to you later."

                "_Absolutely Harry. Take care._" Harry tapped his fingernail deliberately, so that the Grangers could see he was closing the connection.

                "Alright then. You want to know about Speak-O-Graphs? I only know what Dumbledore has told me. He tore my fingernail off my finger. I grew it back instantly, and painfully, but he said I tried too hard. Anyway, he merged the two nails…"

                "Two?" Rick said. Although Ivy was distraught Rick was attentive.

                "Yes, mine and one of his. He merged them and they formed a hearing connection between us. When switched on, I hear what he says and hears, and he hears everything I say and hear. If I try hard I don't have to say anything, and I can send my thoughts to him. It is a direct, uninterruptible connection between us, and only us."

                "Can you get one between me and you?" Hermione said eagerly. New magic was just the thing to excite her. He hated to be painfully blunt but he had to convince her against it.

                "I guess I could. I have nine unused fingernails, but I wouldn't. It is too painful, and for you the pain would last a while. I only accepted with Dumbledore because I need a foolproof, unstoppable connection after my attacks. He has to know of them immediately. Owls take too long to get to him. I can safely use Hedwig with you and Ron, as it is, only Hedwig. Pig would be intercepted as well as any other owl." Hermione's face fell. By the tone of his voice she knew it was a closed topic. Sure, she was excellent at convincing Harry of things, but she knew when he became serious, there was no leeway, no room for argument. It would all be in vain.

                "What about…" she tried but he interrupted her quickly.

                "What ever happened to Rita Skeeter? And my wand for that matter." Hermione started to fish through her pockets.

                "Who?" Asked Ivy, aware that she was looking like a fool standing rigid and silent behind Rick. Hermione handed Harry his wand and he stood. Hermione walked out of the room and Harry followed. Ivy started after them but Rick held her back, as Harry and Hermione scaled the stairs in silence and entered her room. She closed and locked the door and walked over to her closet. She opened the sliding door and pulled out her trunk. It opened revealing a small glass jar. Harry snatched it and opened it. He took out the beetle, place it on the floor, waved his wand and muttered some words, making sure Hermione couldn't hear them. The beetle who was crawling before stopped moving. It beat it's wings to fly, but stayed on the ground.

                "Change back" Harry said in a demanding voice. It made Hermione shiver. Harry had a very strong persona, and when it showed, it was bold. There was a small pop, and before them stood a middle-aged witch with horn-rimmed glasses. She was disheveled, fuming, dirty and holding a handbag familiar to Harry. He summoned it. Rita grabbed for it but couldn't move her feet, which appeared nailed to the floor. Try as she would she wouldn't budge. Harry opened the bag, took out a quill, and set it on fire. It hovered in the air burning, the ashes disintegrating before they hit the ground. Harry closed the bag and handed it back to the woman, who was red with anger. She grabbed it and held it close as Harry pulled up a chair.

                "I need your help, Rita." Harry said plainly. 

                "Go screw yourself." She spat bitterly. He was aware this wasn't going to be easy. He had to choose his words well.

                "I know you would enjoy that, but I need your help, and you will be rewarded justly." She went from red and furious, to red and scared. Was she really that easy to read? Or maybe it was just the higher observing skills of Harry Potter. When Rita didn't respond to Harry's retort, Hermione got angry. She didn't know why, but it was wrong for this old woman to want to have that kind of a relationship with Harry. Especially when Hermione wanted him so badly. It took a while for Rita to gain the composure to speak.

                "What do you want me to do?"

                "Glad to know your interested. I believe Hermione made a deal with you. Something about you taking a one year hiatus from writing, and no lying about people afterwards."

                "Yeah, so?"

                "We drop the one year hiatus. You go back…"

                "Harry!!! What the hell are you doing? After…"

                "Shut up." He said, void of emotion. "We drop the hiatus, and you go back to the Daily Prophet where you will write for me, and only me. I will inform you when and where events happen. You go in your animagus form and report them. Accurately. If you so much as infer gossip, you will regret it deeply. You need to spread the word of Voldemort's rise and activities to the public. Make them aware, and steer them to Dumbledore, and away from Fudge."

                "You want me to report things that happen, and write against the Minister of Magic. Why would I do that?"

                "You regain your freedom, you write again, you gain respect, you subtly spread word on Voldemort and gain power against the dark side. That is why."

                "What's wrong with Fudge?"

                "He disregards Voldemort's return. He is neutral."

                "What's wrong with neutrality?"

                "Do you know anything about muggle warfare history?"

                "A little."

                "World War Two, Britain is the only resistance left other than Russia. The powerful, and neutral United States maintains ties with both sides. What if Japan never attacked the United States, and brought them into the conflict? What if they stayed neutral? Britain would have fallen sooner or later, that was clear, and Russia, though strong could not maintain it's strength through it's losses. Germany would have conquered Europe and then the United States would have been all alone. They had two oceans to protect them, but even they could not defend or defeat a war with both Japan and Germany alone. Being neutral only helps the aggressor. The majority of the wizards and witches in this country are neutral right now, but if united we can defeat Voldemort. If they stay neutral, in the dark, then eventually we all die. It is up to you to unite them. We can't do it without you." Hermione was scared by his determination. He was changed, strong and ruthless. He would not allow Rita to say no. He just had to make it seem like it was her decision.

                "You're saying the fate of the wizarding world in Britain rests upon me?" She laughed.

                "Yes." The grave response cut off her giggling, and she choked on air.

                "You're not joking with me, are you?"

                "No."

                "Why me? There are many other good reporters."

                "You are inconspicuous, sly, smart, and a beetle. You can get it all down without being seen, or noticed. You have the power to jump out from the shadows if things get out of hand. You will have the opportunity to save lives, as well as help us win this. You remember what is was like, before he fell. We have to strike now, and strike soon. Otherwise, all is lost." Rita looked at him carefully, judging his intentions.

                "How am I going to get to these battles?"

                "Anyway you like."

                "How am I going to know when and where to be?"

                "I'll tell you."

                "How do you know where and when he will attack?" Harry thought this over.

                "Sometimes I can see what Voldemort is doing, through my scar. The seizure you so kindly announced to the world last year, was when I was seeing what he was doing. It happens a lot more often now that he's in power. I see his conversations, his torturings, his murders. I will tell you where and when to be." She processed this slowly. It wasn't a bad deal, but it lacked something.

                "I'll do it, on one condition."

                "And that would be?"

                "After the war, if you're still alive, I get an exclusive one on one interview with you."

                "As long as you don't lie, sure." She immediately smiled. Hermione was pouting on her bed. "I will contact you with my owl when the time comes. You can only contact me with my owl. All others will not get through."

                "Good, can I go now?" She was like a little child waiting to go to the toy store.

                "Yes, of course." Harry flicked his wand and she was able to move again. She ran up to Harry and kissed him roughly on the cheek, before transforming into a beetle and flying out of the open window.

                "Why, Harry? Why did you just go behind me on this. You don't control the world, you know." She was on the verge of tears. He felt sorry, but it was necessary.

                "This is no time to hold grudges, if they get in the way of something possibly productive. She has a lot of potential in uniting us against him. In a jar, she is nothing. As much as I dislike her, she could be the best thing we have."

                "But you didn't even ask me! Not a word. You didn't even say what you were doing. You just let her out into the world to spread more lies than truths."

                "She won't lie. An exclusive with THE Harry Potter is worth more than anything to her. It would make her career, and she knows it. It is better this way, Hermione."

                "It doesn't matter if it's better this way. You just ignored me, and didn't even think about letting me in on it."

                "You would have stopped me. Just stop it, now. What is done is done, and it's too late to change it. I'm going to sleep. I'll see you later." He stood slowly and exited the room. As the door clicked shut, tears, being held back by sheer will, poured out of her eyes in torrents.

                Harry stopped when he exited the room, and heard her sob before breaking down and crying. It shred his heart to hear her cry, but he knew it would be worse if he went back in. This was something she had to face on her own. He realized this was their first fight. It didn't make him feel good that it ended with her crying. At least it didn't get rough and bitter like her fights with Ron. Right? It was better that this was a toned down fight. But the crying is what got him. Why did she cry when she fought with him. Maybe she wasn't used to being rejected like that from him. Maybe she cared a lot about Rita's comments. Maybe she just cared.

                He felt his eyelids get heavy, and went to his room. He remembered he was supposed to contact Dumbledore, but he felt it could wait awhile. He removed his shoes and lay down on the bed, careful not to knock over the vase of flowers on the nightstand. He lay awake for thirty minutes, and as sleep claimed him, he swore to never let himself make Hermione cry again.

I hope this chapter is good, my longest yet. I think they'll keep getting long [J] but that means I update less often [L].

Thanks to **Stoneheart** as always, deep reviewing going on there. I love your honesty and straightforwardness {ahkkkh big word! Choking!!!} Thanks as well to **Achilles, Badger Lord, Mark Slade, RJLL**(again)**, ****AGTB13, Cr1Ms0n^D3v1L, Urania, HarryHermione4ever**, I love you all. **I say this again. I have a basic plot line up for this, with some scenes to match, but I will consider any ideas, because since like 2000bc, nothing's written in stone****.** I hope you enjoy my story so far. If you need something more entertaining, I do have a dog that enjoys running into things (I.E.Walls, Tables, Cabinets, People, Parked cars.) That's always worth a few laughs.


	8. Big Boys Like Toys

                "Harry? Harry, wake up." A sweet voice drew him forth from his slumber. He was sweating, and cold. He was aware that his dream was probably not a pleasant one. A hand wrapped around his shoulder and shook him lightly. He turned to face the disturbance. Hermione was kneeling next to him, with bags under her eyes. He didn't know what he was doing, but he sat up and hugged her. He was afraid she would resist, but was happy to feel her arms find their way around his neck. Time slowed to a snails pace as he held her so close, he felt her heart beating. She buried her head in his neck, and he felt the warm moisture trickle out of her eyes, and onto his skin. He held her tighter, wishing all of her pain to go away. Especially the pain he had caused her.

                "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He whispered into her ear. Her tears continued down his neck, and he kissed her forehead. "What do you want? I'll do anything." Her arms were uncomfortably tight around his neck and he winced a little.

                "Anything?" She asked quietly, knowing exactly what she wanted. He rethought his statement, but resolved to go on with it. Knowing her, she wouldn't make him do anything terrible. Well, not too terrible.

                "Yes, anything in my power." She pulled back from the embrace and looked into his emerald depths. He caught her cinnamon eyes and held his breath for a second.

                "Kiss me?" She said. The words didn't process well, but when they did, Harry was a bit exasperated.

                "WHAT!?!?" He yelled, more out of shock than disgust.

                "Shhhh, you said anything, and I want you to kiss me." She begged. 

                "What? I mean, why?" He knew he had to tread this lightly. Ron liked Hermione, plus Hermione was his best friend. One kiss could have drastic consequences.

                "I want to know what it feels like, to really be kissed…on the lips." He put his head in his hands.

                "How did I get pulled into this?" He grumbled sourly.

                "You said that…"

                "I know, I know. It was a rhetorical question. Bullocks, why me? Why not Ron? He would love to."

                "Ew, that would be like, like kissing my brother."

                "And with me???" She paused a moment.

                "It's more on friendly terms. C'mon Harry, just one little kiss. Please?" He sighed in defeat.

                "Fine, one kiss, if it makes you feel bet…What about Krum?"

                "Harry, I don't like him like that, and we are not dating. He is only a friend."

                "Are you visiting him this summer?"

                "No, my parents won't let me, thank god. Can we do this?"

                "Right, it's just, you have to admit it's rather weird." She gave him a soft glare. "Fine, how do we do this?"

                "Let's stand up." He complied and stood up next to her. She face him, and he faced her. He noticed that they were the same height, and it didn't help his mood.

                "Now what?"

                "I put my arms around your neck, you put your hands on my hips." As awkward as it was he did it slowly. He didn't want to hurt her, even if he was convinced this was not going to be enjoyable. "And we kiss…" She moved forwards towards him. They wet their lips simultaneously. He watched her pink lips approach his and felt drawn to them. He saw her close her eyes, and followed her lead. He didn't have to hate it, he could at least try to do this. 

                Their mouths met, and she pulled him tighter against her. He felt his hands begging to wander around her body, but held back. He felt his lips desire to move against her, but held back. He wanted so badly to stay that way forever, but held back. He savored the kiss, but ended shortly after it began. He knew that blood was rushing to his face, but he completed the bargain, so he was free. He pulled away and opened his eyes, to see her with hers still closed. He licked his lips again, and watched her eyes flutter open. Her cheeks were noticeably red, even in the dimness of the room. He dropped his arms from her hips, but she kept her arms around his neck, and stared into his eyes, searching for something, anything to tell her his thoughts, emotions, anything relating to the kiss. He admitted to himself that he had enjoyed it. A lot. But now was not the time to be romancing your best friend whom your other best friend fancies.

                "Was that alright?" he inquired after realizing they had been staring at each other for the greater part of a minute. 

                "Yes, that was…" she couldn't risk using any of the words she wanted to use, as it would make her too obvious. The kiss she could pass off as necessary in her troubled state, but liking the kiss to him would be clear as day. "…lovely." She kicked herself, mentally. She was supposed to be able to come up with something better than that. She was the smartest witch Hogwarts had seen in a long while, and the word that she spits out is 'lovely.' How she wished death would find her soon.

                "Good. I'm glad." He put lamely. "We should, you know go eat, because it's time for, what's it called, dinner. Yeah." He went into contemplation. 'Why am I this rattled? The kiss was fun, and arousing, but it wasn't THAT good. So, I kissed my best friend. It was awkward, and I wouldn't do it again given the chance. Case closed……Well, maybe…nahhhh.'

                "Um, yeah, dinner. We should go." She dropped her arms from his neck. Harry turned and exited the room, heading down to the dining room. Hermione watched him leave, and sighed happily. She had her kiss, and nothing could ruin her day.

                At dinner, a very uncomfortable silence hung over the table, and everyone carefully avoided everyone else's eyes. The Grangers wouldn't look at Harry, and vice versa, because of his attack, and Harry wouldn't look at Hermione and her parents, because of the kiss. Hermione used every ounce of self-control she had not to jump up and down, drunk off of her own happiness. Halfway through the meal, Rick look up and carefully examined the situation. His wife was avoiding Harry, probably scared, he was a little too. Harry was probably embarrassed, being gawked at for being…disabled in that way would be humiliating. But that their was the tension between Harry and Hermione that got to him. She had known and been there during Harry's attacks before. Surely they didn't unnerve her like this, and Harry shouldn't be this secluded from her. From the way she was crying on him before, they appeared to be close. Rick had a right mind to bet Hermione had feelings for Harry that weren't strictly friendly. After her first year and second year at that school she always came home rambling about Harry and Ron and Ron and Harry, but he noticed after third year it was much more Harry than Ron, and on her first day back this year he was questioning to ask whether this Ron character still existed, because she didn't even mention him. Maybe she confessed her feelings to him, but Harry wouldn't be that tense, he seems like an understanding boy. Maybe Hermione was embarrassed about crying on him, and he wanted to give her space. There were always possibilities. Rick always thought Ivy had a thing for Tom, who she always talked about, but it turned out they were only platonic. But Ivy had liked him, but that was ancient history now. He had to keep his head up in his daughter's personal life. He couldn't let her get hurt, but from what he had heard when she wrote home about the Jewel, Mule or Tool Ball, Yule Ball, that's it, Yule Ball. When she wrote home about the Yule ball, she wrote that she was angry that Ron and Harry (though more subtly) were concerned about her decision, and honestly, this eighteen year old Bulgarian oaf with his fourteen year old daughter was not something he liked either, so he had faith in Harry and Ron, and trusted them.

                The meal ended slowly, and Hermione and Harry went back to her room. They went over his potions essay, which she loved and claimed to envy (though he doubted it) and discussed all of the other homework, left uncompleted, but discussed possibilities none the less. They talked about everything, but the kiss they shared earlier, both embarrassed. Hermione for being obvious, Harry for doubting his strictly friendly motivations towards Hermione. At ten o'clock Harry left her room and retired in his own, dozing for an hour before the door creaked open, and he instinctively opened his eyes as large as possible. He needn't roll over to see the door, he only looked into the mirror. It was Rick. He glanced slowly around the room, his eyes lingering on Harry for a moment before murmuring a good night, and closing the door. Again, Harry relaxed into his dozing state, and the door creaked again. His reflexes snapped opened his eyes again and he watched Hermione step into his room and close the door. He noticed she was in her nightshirt, and she looked pretty. Just pretty. Only pretty. Not arousing, barely pretty. She walked up to the side of the bed behind him. He watched in the mirror, growing tense with anticipation. He just wanted to watch. To see what happened when people thought no one was looking. He kept his breath steady, as short breaths would be a give away.

                "Harry?" she breathed. The sound barely made it to his ears. He had to fight his urge to recognize her. He had to see how she reacted.

                "Harry?" She whispered with more volume, he stayed still, and she kneeled on the bed behind him. He closed his left eye to appear asleep from someone looking down, but kept his right eye open to watch. He was fascinated by her courage when he was playing dead. She leant over him and examined his sleeping face, hiding his open eye. "I love you" she breathed, softer than before, and she kissed his cheek, before sliding off the bed and walking from the room. He felt a shaking on his shoulder and light came on in the room.

                "Harry. Were you really asleep?" He shot up very confused. Hermione was fully dressed and shaking him vigorously.

                "Huh? What?" He was now confused and scared. 

                "Did you ever go to sleep? Your eyes were open. I tried forever to wake you with light and moving things in front of your face. You were day dreaming at night. That or sleeping with your eyes open." She saw the horror on his face as he jolted awake. "Another nightmare?" she asked sympathetically.

                "I wish." He muttered to himself.

                "What was that?"

                "Yes, another nightmare." He said clearly. He quickly jumped out of bed in his plaid blue boxer shorts and took a folded towel from his dresser, as well as a complete set of clothes from his rucksack. He turned to her, standing sheepishly and red faced by is bed. "What?" He examined his body, shirtless, pant less, and only a large pair of boxers. "All the necessaries are covered, and you still turn into a tomato. It's like wearing a bathing suit, nothing special." He wasn't revealing anything, but it struck him that he probably should have checked anyway, before getting up so hastily. "I'm going for a shower, see you at breakfast."

                He left her staring at where he was, with the look one would give a god. A goofy grin crossed her face. Ivy entered the room, wanting to sneak a peak at the boy without the complication of clothes. She wore her usual sand-colored robe, with little on underneath.

                "Har…Honey, what are you doing?" Hermione snapped out of her daze, and turned very red again.

                "What?"

                "Why are you in here?"

                "I woke Harry, he went to take a shower. He had another nightmare." She finished sullenly.

                "Oh. Well sharpen up for breakfast. Don't be late." Ivy stalked from the room, while Hermione gaped at her. Hermione had seen her wear those clothes once before and that was on her parents anniversary, when Ivy and Rick were…

                "Ohmygod!" She said aloud. She sprinted out of the room and down to the kitchen, where Harry arrived fifteen minutes later. He greeted the Grangers enthusiastically, but noticed Hermione kept shooting glares at Ivy. He swallowed the last of his sausage, and leaned in closer to her.

                "What happened between you and your mother?" Hermione turned to him, and her glare softened considerably.

                "It doesn't matter now, it's over."

                "You don't seem to be letting it go."

                "I'm angry at her for what she tried to do, so I will be for a while. I'm sorry Harry."

                "Whatever for?"

                "Your whole visit. Your attack, the kiss, the nightmare, my mother…I'm sorry. The whole thing has gone bad."

                "No, no, no. I had a better time than I could have had at the Dursleys. This was a grand idea. It was a bit rough, but I'll never begrudge you that."

                "You go too soft on everyone."

                "Even the Amazing Flaming Flying Bouncing Ferret?" She snorted out her milk, gaining the attention of her parents.

                "What are you two whispering about?" Rick sent Harry a wink when Hermione pulled her eyes away from her parents.

                "Nothing." They said in perfect unison, sending Hermione into more giggles. 

                The delightful breakfast finished too soon, and Harry and Hermione went back to her room (again) and spoke about Harry's new presence within Voldemort's tightest circle.  It got to the point where Hermione gave Harry a very old box of crayons and ordered him to draw a picture. So Harry sat for thirty minutes playing with crayons. He discovered he was actually quite good a sketching people, even if the were featureless and white as snow with red eyes. Hermione recoiled at the picture, and he burned it despite her desire to keep it. All too soon the clock struck twelve, and it was time for our hero to leave his temporary home, and return to the cruel hard world. He hugged Hermione for a long time (he took the initiative I tell ya) before he tramped down to the living room. Well, the one with all the foreign objects and such. He shook Rick's hand, and gave a very quick hug to Ivy, who wished him luck with his dreams and health. He tossed a pinch of powder into the flame, shouted "the Dursleys" and sped at impossible speeds before tumbling out of the fireplace at #4 Privet Drive. The first words he heard were Hysterical, like someone died.

                "I can't believe it! The only thing my mother ever gave to me, and his idiot friend broke it! My sweet cherry blossom serving dish. Gone. Look at it. LOOK AT IT!!!" Obviously someone broke Petunia's cherry blossom serving dish.

                "Calm down love. I'm sure Piers parents will get you one just like it." Harry walked into the doorway of the kitchen, to find Petunia, evil, rock hard Petunia, crying. Actually crying, over shattered dishes.

                "IT WON'T BE THE SAME!!! My MOTHER gave this to me and ONLY this!" Harry walked around them, careful to avoid the china sitting messily all over the kitchen floor. He knew one day he may regret this but he took out his wand. Vernon looked at him.

                "What do you want?" He snarled. Not in the mood, though, there was no 'boy' or 'trash' or 'freak' at the end of the sentence. A mild improvement. Harry ignored him and closely examined the pieces. A simple repairing charm should do it. He swished and flicked like a master, and stated '_Reparo_' and all the pieces became one, whole, large, beautiful cherry blossom serving plate. Aunt Petunia gasped, prior too enveloping Harry into a hug to rival Hadgrid's. She laughed into his neck, and picked up the plate. Not only was it back in one piece, but the scratch that went across the plate the short way, as well as the chipped edge, were also fixed. The plate appeared brand new. Petunia actually skipped around the kitchen, to Harry's disgust and Vernon's growing amusement. She stopped in front of the cupboard and placed the dish back in, smiling at Harry like he just gave them the fortunes of several wealthy nations. 

                "Thank you, Harry, bless you." He nodded and said as loudly as he dared 'your welcome.' Vernon grabbed him roughly by the arm and tugged him into the downstairs bathroom. 'Oh bullocks, here it comes.' But Vernon was speaking only in a whisper, and he wasn't spraying Harry with saliva. Maybe he'd better listen in.

                "If I got an old rusty broken car, could you make it work?" Harry's jaw hung open. This was not happening. His uncle, the most anti-magic person in the world, was asking him to use magic. Of course it was a selfish thing to do, but Harry could do it. 

                "I could." Harry stated slowly, emphasizing the could.

                "Would you?" His eyes were smiling with giddiness.

                "On my terms." His face fell.

                "Right. Of course. And they are?"

                "One, The car can't be too old or too expensive, or else it will stand out too much and people will get suspicious. Two, I need the owners manual. Three, I need a book, step-by-step how to rebuild the engine and transmission. Four, I want a used 1994 Harley-Davidson Special FLSTN, to make up for all of my missed birthdays. Five, no guarantees on the reliability, I build the car, not the parts." Vernon weighed this for a few moments. 

                "What condition does your motorcycle have to be in?"

                "Any will do, but if it's bad, I need the books as well; manuals, rebuild engine and transmission kits. The works."

                "I'll do it. It's a deal." Vernon sprinted from the bathroom and into the kitchen. He immediately took out a telephone book and started dialing numbers. Harry went up to his room and worked on homework. He finished Charms and Transfiguration, and was just starting Defense Against the Dark Arts when he heard his name called from downstairs. He put down his quill and made his way down. He remembered that he had forgotten lunch, but he wasn't hungry. Vernon was positively beaming at Harry when he entered.

                "Your motorcycle will be here at four o'clock, and a, wait, wait, wait. A 1964 Cadillac de Ville Convertible, one of those top line cars from the Yankees, will be arriving at ten tonight. I didn't want the neighbors to see it go into the garage, to come out perfect."

                "A car takes a lot longer than a dish. It may take weeks. Don't go too fast." Vernon's smile faded significantly. It almost made Harry feel bad. Almost.

                "I suppose I can wait awhile. You're sure you can do this?"

                "As long as I have the books…" Harry said as he walk out of the kitchen and up to his room. He continued on his Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. As he finished describing the ways to detect the Imperious Curse, the doorbell rang. Out of habit Harry ran down the stairs and opened the door. A strong and dirty man with oil covering his smock stood there with his arms crossed.

                "Where ye wan' da bike?" Vernon appeared next to Harry forcing a smile at the smelly mechanic.

                "The garage will be fine." Vernon said as pleasantly as possible, forcing another fake smile.

                "No, Uncle Vernon. I'll take it to my room. You need the garage for the car."

                "Oh yes, that's right. Take it up to his room."

                "No, Uncle Vernon, I'll take it up to my room, just bring it here." Harry pointed to the floor just inside the door. The man disappeared, and returned with another man as they carried a block of rusted metal with wheels. They dropped it lightly in the entrance way.

                "Ye shoor ye don' wan' us te bring it up te yer room?" said the second man.

                "Yeah, I can handle it." The man shot Harry an appraising look before shrugging and turning away, leaving only the first man at the door. Uncle Vernon pulled out his wallet.

                "How much for it?" Harry had lost interest in the proceedings and involved himself in examining the old broken down bike that he had to fix up. It was in terrible shape. It wasn't recognizable under the rust and scratches. The front wheel was bent sharply, suggesting a collision. He was amazed at the terrible condition for a one year old bike. Rust usually didn't spread that fast in such a short period of time.

                "Nothin'. Yer doin us a favor by taking this here bike. Moron was campin' and got it too close to de fire. Tried to cool it off wit water. Water on hot metal makes rust. Ruined a brand new bike. Don't know if its really worth tryin' te save. It's pretty bad."

                "I'll manage." Harry said with a wide smile. The man, not wanting to crush the boy's hopes. Left it at that. He return to the truck and drove away.

                "You can just magic it up to your room, Harry. Just don't get oil, and rust all over it please. Or clean it with your magic when your done. The car will be here in five hours, so you can play with this…bike until then." Harry? Please? What were these words coming out of his mouth. Had Vernon gone insane? Did he actually say the feared M word? Magic? 'I think someone smuggled a snowball into hell' Harry thought, while smiling, really smiling for the first time in a long time. Harry pulled out his wand and swished it at the block of iron oxide. '_Wingardium Leviosa._' It rose two feet off the ground and up the stairs. Vernon fidgeted, staring at the hundreds of pounds of metal flying over his stairs. Halfway up, the rear wheel fell off and tumbled back down, revealing a snapped chain. Harry sighed, but continued walking behind the hovering bike, setting it lightly in the center of his room. He turned to go back downstairs to retrieve the wheel, but Vernon was standing there, holding it out to him. Harry hesitantly took it, and thanked his uncle before entering his room. He studied the automobile closely. The rust had gone straight through in some places. He would really need to rebuild this, piece by piece. He went into his old cupboard, under the stairs, and borrowed his uncle's screwdrivers, a pliers, a vice grips, some oil and a hammer. He carried the heavy tools up to his room and started taking the bike apart. He organized the pieces by what part they came from, but noticed too many of the bolts were welded by rust, and the rust would need to be removed before he could take it apart. He continued anyway, using the oil to loosen the nuts, the vice grips to secure on them, and the hammer to break the seal and start them on their way out. After three hours he had managed to take apart the handlebars, remove the front wheel, and remove all the bolts attaching the engine to the frame, minus two that were too rusty. He vowed to get a book the next day to provide the necessary information. 

                All too soon ten o'clock arrived and Harry was called away from his set of pieces, formerly known as a motorcycle. Harry ran downstairs and walked outside. The streetlamps cast a warm glow around the dark quiet neighborhood. Vernon's car was parked on the street, and the driveway was clear, leading to the open garage. Harry stood silently next to his uncle, and a comfortable bonding started. Both, alone in the night, together. After a few minutes the rumble of a truck was heard and it appeared turning the corner onto Privet Drive. Even with the peeling paint, rusty doors, and torn upholstery, Harry had to admit, it was a beautiful car. It was being towed and the man let it down in the middle of the street. He checked the address once more, and handed the keys to Uncle Vernon before saying goodbye and leaving.

                "Um, Harry? Could you shift into neutral, no wait, it was towed, so it's already I neutral. Right, just steer as I push the car."

                "Sure." Harry leapt into the driver's seat and put both hands on the steering wheel. This was the first time he had ever been in the front of a car. Vernon leant against the front of the car and pushed with all his might. The car began to move, grinding metal was heard, but seemed to pulse with each wheel rotation. Harry turned the steering wheel and the car backed into the driveway, he straightened the wheel and the car slowly entered the garage. Harry got out and stood at the entrance to the garage with his uncle, again in contemplative silence. He promised that a thing this wonderful, deserved all his effort, even if it was for his uncle. He would have to do this the same way as his motorbike; one piece at a time. Harry wished his Uncle a good night, and crept up to his room. So this was what it was like to be a man, to take apart, and put back together. He began to think about the recent twist of events, and his mind reminded him 'women may have the upper hand in logic and intelligence, but they could never comprehend the strong spiritual connection between man and his creations.'

                Everyone, thank you for reading and reviewing, and I ask that you review, but if you're not going to, I won't be able to do anything will I. This was an…interesting chapter. We see the beginning of development between Harry and Hermione, and Harry and Vernon. I think that this is going to be the last "happy" chapter for a long while. It's all going to start going downhill from here, folks. I had to have Harry connect with someone for a while, even if it is his Uncle, because he will force the disconnection and isolation between himself, and Hermione and Ron. It will probably get a bit Dark later on, but I think I should be able to maintain the quality which everyone says is good (great in some cases). Although, I do not have much self-confidence, hence I need reviews, similarly to drugs, to continue. It's an addiction!!!

Stoneheart – Thanks for the review as always. Yes, I realized there is much more to our neutrality during the beginning of WWII than I put in, but just like in the HP books, no one likes a long history lesson, and it makes it easier to incorporate from that simplistic point of view. I understand it well I think (WEEHEE! Got a 96 on that test!!!) but I think our motivations for dropping the A-Bomb on Japan is a much more debatable topic, regarding the big WHY? Question. About the H/Hr happy ending…I promise that later (probably much later) they will get close, but this chapter is really the only hint of anything for a long while. You'll understand in probably like four more chapters, when I explain it. I don't promise a happy ending. I always have the greatest bad endings, some are absolutely brilliant. But I don't really have the courage to use them. Maybe I'll end this fic like ¾ of the way through and have three separate alternate endings. That would be weird. Hermione will never convince Harry to loose another nail for her, because he doesn't trust himself to have that connection with her. It could be his downfall. Ah, and the Moody complex. From what I get from the very little real Moody we see, as opposed the well played part by Crouch, I think the Voldemort shudder won't coincide. None of Voldies followers can say his name, and although Moody is ver jumpy, and paranoid, I do not believe for a second, he would be afraid to say the name. He has seen too much to fear it like the others, and he has the balls, if anyone does, to say it with a smile. Thanx again, Fare thee well.

Kneazle – Thank you for your review. You say Harry seems so old for a fourteen year old. I say this; How mature would you be after 1. Having dead parents, and coping with the void left in your heart. 2. Growing up with hateful people such as the Dursleys 3. Saving the World, The Hogwarts, then your godfather, then watching an acquaintance die next to you 4. Feel  pain beyond pain, and live to tell the tale. I think you would grow up pretty fast, don't you? Harry is going to end up being forty in a fifteen year olds body, if he doesn't find an outlet. As you can tell from this chapter, I am going to lighten his load before the shit really starts to fly, and it will. I'm sorry, but he won't find a book like that. Amusing thought though. He will figure it out soon enough, and it will only make things worse. Hermione was always the quick one, but Harry was never that far behind her, and he will see his attraction to her soon enough. Ron is going to be much more quite, and a little sad too. He will begin to feel real jealousy towards Harry, but will stay non-violent. Yes, Ron grows up. Fred and George are going to tear Hogwarts apart, but if you read my summary, Harry really isn't going to be there. Hint hint. We see what Malfoy is really like, without Harry to stand up to him. Malfoy will pretty much take over the school though, and violence will ensue. Thanx again.

Badger Lord – Thank you for the review. I added Rita, and she will be important for what she does in this story, not who she is. As I kind had Harry make her do, She will unite the magical world.

ADJ – You are the only one to mention the prophesy!!! One hundred Galleons Leprechaun gold for you. You're a smart one. It was subtle, but yes, this prophesy will eventually bring out a trait in Voldemort never ever seen before. No, love would be impossible. We see Ignorance! Voldie ain't as smart as he thinks he is. Wink, Wink. Yes Neutrality is evil. I don't remember what fic, maybe it was Septanic Dueling by NAPPA (great author) , I'm not sure, but Harry is a prefect and lead the first years to their dorms and says that Gryffindors are brave, and that they need to stand up for the kids who are picked on and what not. That reminded me of that idea. If you watch someone get hurt by the hand of another, and do nothing to stop it, you are no better than the person doing it. Even if you do step in, those few seconds of hesitation can mean a lot of pain to the recipient. Why do you think Harry was so sharp with Hermione. She would hesitate. Want to think it through. Lost time will become important here. Harry will progress with magic A LOT. He works in a bookstore and can legally do magic. He he. He will be bored and he will read, and read and read and turn Dudley into a boar, and read and read. He will not return to Hogwarts. DID ANYONE READ MY SUMMARY??? At least not at the beginning of term. He runs away, supposedly, like the coward Harry is (sarcasm evident here) but there are two real motivations for his departure, and only one person knows where he goes, well, two. No, three. Not Hermione, not any Weasleys. We'll see when the time comes

Thanks also to – Taracollowen – Garm – HarryHermione4ever – Vagrantshadow – and anyone else I have forgotten. Thank you all and pleasant reading!


	9. A New Arrival

                Harry sat, staring into the darkness. It was nearing eleven o'clock, but he couldn't sleep. He was too excited about everything. One, he had himself a motorcycle. Well, it would be a motorcycle. Someday. Hopefully. Two, he would be returning to work. Three, he would be returning a '64 Cadillac to pristine condition. Four, Uncle Vernon was actually being decent towards Harry. Five, he could admit to himself he had developed a crush on Hermione. It was really no big deal. He would get over her just like he got over Cho. He didn't love Hermione. She was just a friend, and he was more than happy to keep it that way. 

                He felt a tickling sensation on his forehead. It increased in annoyance and he scratched it gently. Big mistake. A sharp jolt of pain ran through his head, digging deeply into his brain. He howled softly through a clenched jaw. The shock gave way to the return of a dull ache. Harry knew it was coming, and retreated to his bed, pulling the covers up to his neck, and closing his eyes. He had to learn to accept this if he was to maintain his sanity. Slowly, the blackness engulfed him, and he was swept away into oblivion.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                _A room appeared, within it lay a lone four-poster of black drapes and a very dark brown wooden frame. Slowly, in the pale light provided by a green burning candle, a figure, white as paper, exited from the sanctuary of the bed. He was naked, and his face strongly resembled that of a snake. Another figure emerged soon afterward. A woman, of long black hair and yellow eyes. She lacked clothing as well. He had made his way and sat in an armchair he had produced with a wand. The woman, with tan skin looked at him, until he signaled for her the approach him. His hand flew between her legs, and she gasped. His fingernails, very long and sharpened, purposely dug into her sensitive flesh. _

_                "You will come to me again, before dawn." He hissed, his voice thick with hatred._

_                "Yes master" she said shakily. He released her and lapped up the blood and other fluids that now coated his skeletal fingers. She slowly backed away, and exited. He continued, like a cat, licking his hand clean of her. As much as he hated them, all those who rejected him, and those who had yet to, he had to have them. He felt confined by his strong primal urges to have sex. He hated all women, who had pained him so badly. He finished, and examined his naked body. He looked very similar to a Zombie. Perfect for scaring little children. _

_                "Bring them to me" he spoke in the language of the snakes. Seconds later, two children ran screaming into the room, closely pursued by a snake, joyously snapping at their heels. The children stopped when they saw him, revealed and smirking evilly at them. Happy to be contaminating their innocent little minds before they would die._

_                They were brother and sister, him five, and her seven. They stood in a horrified silence as the snake circled them. Voldemort had conjured himself a bottle of vodka, and tortured them some more. The silent treatment was always one of his favorite methods of torture; it was very effective, and he could continue on his lazy course of terrorizing the world. Oh, to be rewarded for doing nothing, everyone's greatest ambition. After his second bottle of alcohol he stood up. The serpent slithered to his side, and he eyed the two muggles carefully. He turned slowly, but used his reflexes to spin back to the boy and shout 'Boo!' The girl screamed, which was pleasant enough, but Voldemort got the bonus of watching a wet spot grow in the from of the boy's trousers. The spot grew and trailed all the way down the boy's leg and dripped onto the floor._

_                "Tsk tsk. Guests should be more kind that to urinate on their host's floor. CRUCIO!" The boy screamed in pain for five seconds, before the curse ended. The boy curled up into a fetal position and cried, no wailed for his Mum and his Pop. Too bad they were at the police station currently filing a missing persons report. The girl stepped back in fear. "Why so scared, muggle? Don't like magic? I thought you would all love magic" he sneered. She continued her movement, until, fed up with her lack of response, he decided the time had come. 'IMPERIO' he screamed at her, and her body became relaxed and expressionless. The girl ran up to her brother and began to kick, again, again, and again. The boy screamed for her to stop, but she couldn't. H began to bleed from the numerous cuts and gashes forming on his body. Finally, with inhuman strength, she picked up the boy and threw him clear across the room, forty feet, and he smacked into the wall with an echoing crack before falling to the ground, dead. The curse was released from her, but his fun wasn't going to end._

_                "See what you did, little girl? What will your mummy and daddy think of you? You killed your only brother. They will never want to see you again." She broke down crying. She walked over to her brother and cautiously kneeled beside the corpse. She picked up his hand, still warm and sweaty from fear, and she caressed it pathetically. She couldn't help but feel this strange man was telling the truth. There was no one else to believe. For the first time, she looked him in the eyes. Hers were somber, gloomy, and pink, while his were red with a joyful hate._

_                "Please, sir. I want to go home – please." She begged. To her dismay, he laughed. It was high pitched and cruel._

_                "So soon to leave your brother, and go home and cry to your parents. No, you will die here with him. In fact, I don't know why I waited so long to do this. AVADA KADAVRA." A green flash illuminated the room, before the girl slumped onto the ground, next to her brother, dead and cold. The snake dipped its fangs in the fresh meat._

_                "Nagini, I am awake now, so what do we have planned for tonight?"_

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

Harry awoke to a pounding headache as well as the expected pain in his forehead. He grabbed a tissue, and dabbed softly at his bleeding scar. He moaned in agony, but was careful not to wake the house. He was  laying next to his bed, and slowly climbed back into it, staring at the ceiling while his pain dissipated, breath slowed, and exhaustion settled in. He found his fingernail, and pressed it with what little strength he possessed. 

                "Professor Dumbledore?"

                "_Yes Harry. How may I help you this evening?_" The exhaustion was winning slowly, so Harry was frank.

                "Two dead muggles. Tortured and killed by Voldemort. No witnesses. In a large room. Woman he, he, he sleeps with. Hurt her too. Black hair, down to waist. Yellow eyes. Pointy nose. Dragon tooth earring." Harry said this all very quickly, as the last of his strength dwindled. 

                "_I am loosing your signal, Harry. Get some rest. I'll speak with you tomorrow._"

                "'Night" Harry whispered, before cutting off the connection, and drifting into an uneasy sleep.

--------------------

                Harry awoke the next morning aching but strong. He dressed and ran, showered, cooked breakfast and got ready for work. He was beginning to run low on the floo powder Spencer had given him, and resolved to buy more. At eight o'clock sharp, with a full money bag, and a wand, Harry stepped into the fireplace, only to step out at Flourish and Blotts. Spencer dropped a few copies of _Vampires: The complete encyclopedia_ but greeted Harry with an unsure smile.

                "' thought you were takin' a few days off." 

                "I did. I took two days off, but right now it is better if I'm here. So, where do I start?" Spencer examined Harry thoroughly.

                "Go to the bathroom, and put on yer little color show. Then, just outside me office is four boxes o' new deliveries. Just fill in the gaps that the sold books left, got it?" Harry nodded appreciatively. He walked into the bathroom, and changed his eyes and hair before concealing the scar on his forehead. He found his way to the entrance to Spencer's office, and just as he was told, there were four boxes of books. Harry picked up the top one and marched into the store, gently gliding the light box onto the table. He judged that from the sizes of books he'd seen in the store, the number of books in the box would be anywhere from three to thirty. The box was light, so he didn't worry, and wondered what he would do after he finished, which he guessed would be soon. He opened the box and gasped. Inside were over two hundred books, of four different titles. The inside of the box was huge.

                "I should've known…" he mumbled. He picked up one of the books. It was titled _548 Potions to Drive Your Parents Crazy_. 'Children's' he guessed to himself. He closed the box and placed the book on top, searching through the aisles of books. It took seven laps around the store, but forty minutes later he found four books on a shelf of the same title. He double checked to be sure, before opening the box and filling the empty space next to the books on the shelves with the books from the box. The weight of the books forced him to do only two books at a time, and he tired quickly from the heavy lifting. When the last copy was placed on the shelf, he took a different book from the box, _NEWTs, What You Really Need to Know_. 'Somewhere near schoolbooks…' he trekked through the store again, until he found the void where the books belonged. Only twenty six minutes to find it this time. These books were also considerably smaller and lighter than the previous set, so by going with five books at a time, the shelf was quickly filled. Harry continued his search and supply code, until a little before he was halfway through his second box, Spencer interrupted his progress.

                "G'bye Harry."

                "Huh?"

                "Lunchtime. Git outta here before I throw you out. You're workin' too hard. See ya in an hour." Harry could tell by his voice that this was not open for discussion. He gleefully dropped his books and skipped into Diagon Alley. He stopped in the square and inhaled deeply, feeling the magic around him. He strolled to the Leaky Cauldron and asked politely for a stein of butterbeer and to see a menu. He was led by Tom the barkeep to a secluded table near the back of the pub. Only seconds later, a huge mug of butterbeer, and a book the size of a muggle car tire was sitting in front of him. He took a swig of his butterbeer and opened to the first page. _The Complete Menu of The Leaky Cauldron Pub, Diagon Alley, London._ Harry's jaw dropped. This huge book was the menu. There were all sorts of creatures listed, but Harry was drawn to the word Human. As soon as his finger touched it, the pages of the book went leafing by at incredible speeds. It stopped on page 4742, and Harry read down the new Contents page. _Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner, Snack, Dessert, Salads, Delicacies, Drinks_. Harry this time touched lunch, and watched the pages fly by again. At page 5134 a new table of contents appeared. This Table of Contents was incredibly long, stating all sorts of meats, starches, vegetables by which the food were organized. Harry read through them slowly before giving up. There were to many subcategories for him to bother. As if on queue, Tom appeared next to Harry.

                "Can I git yeh anytin', Mr. Pot…White?" Harry grinned appreciatively at Tom. He always attempted to remember the aliases of his countless customers.

                "Just, a small salad, and a Swiss cheese sandwich, please." Harry had ordered, and sat back as Tom was engulfed by the loud lunch crowd. Harry scanned the mob, and his eyes fell on a blonde haired man who was looking at him strangely. The man picked up his glass and strode towards Harry, through the wild drinkers who were violently discussing quidditch. Harry quickly debated whether he should run or stay. He ventured to stay, because a large crowd would prevent anything bad from happening, right? The man sopped in front of Harry, closely examining his face. A small smile crept at the corners of his mouth. He leant down and began to whisper.

                "Hello Harry. You didn't run away from the muggles again, did you?" Harry was stunned. Who the hell was this stranger, and why was he talking to him.

                "Do I know you? If not, please leave." Harry said coldly. He wasn't in the mood for company. The man took the seat opposite Harry, to Harry's great aggravation.

                "In that case, Harry, I'm doing well, and so is buckbeak, though it seems buckbeak is a bit lonely with only me around." The smile on the man's face grew wide. It was Harry's turn to lean in.

                "Sirius?" he whispered as loudly as he dared in a public place.

                "Mr. Greene, for now." Harry laughed.

                "Well, then I'm Mr. White."

                "Pleased to meet you Mr. White."

                "Likewise Mr. Greene." There was a silence before both started laughing earning them a couple of harmless glances. "So, Mr. Greene, what is your business here?"

                "I am on break from a mission given to me by Dumbledore, why else would I be here? However, I have been out of contact for a while. Why the hell are you here, and in disguise?" Harry couldn't help but smile mischievously.

                "Wouldn't you like to know."

                "This is no laughing matter. It is not safe for you to go wandering around Diagon Alley alone."

                "Yes mother" Harry rolled his eyes.

                "What in bloody hell…"

                "Fine! I work in Flourish and Blotts for the summer. Gives me something to do. I'm on lunch break." Sirius weighed this for a second in his mind. Harry took advantage of the silence to change the topic. "Padfoot, what ever happened to your motorcycle?" His ears perk like those of a dog. Go figure.

                "I'm not really sure. The last I saw of it I gave it to Hadgrid, and I never really thought about it after that. I had other things on my mind." He finished coldly. "Why?"

                "I got Uncle Vernon to get me a motorcycle. It is in worse shape than you were out of Azkaban. I get to fix it up though, and if I can get it to work right, it's mine." Sirius looked at Harry doubtfully.

                "There's more to this than you're telling."

                "Right, he got himself an old and broken '64 Cadillac, which I have to fix for him."

                "I can't believe he's making you do that. I swear, if I ever get my hands on that, that fat bastard…"

                "I didn't have to do it, I chose to. I find it a good deal. Then, you can teach me to ride." Harry smiled, but Sirius became serious.

                "No" he said flatly.

                "Why not?"

                "No. It's too dangerous."

                "Are you kidding me?"

                "No. And that's final." Harry knew not to push it, he would just have to learn on his own. He was about to launch into Sirius's whereabouts over the last few weeks, but was interrupted by Tom, bringing out Harry's sandwich and salad. Sirius started talking about the Marauder's escapade they had, as he picked at Harry's salad. Fed up with losing a bit of tomato to the man, Harry began the routine of slapping Sirius's hand every time he reached for anything. Hey began cracking up again. When Harry finished his lunch, Sirius went back into serious mode.

                "Look, Harry, I have to get back to work, and you do too in thirty minutes. You won't be able to contact me. Take care of yourself, and stay alert. Don't trust strangers. Hell, don't trust anyone but your closest friends and Dumbledore. Stay out of trouble, and in heavily populated areas. No Knockturn Alley or any other dark alleyways. Understand?"

                "Don't worry about me Sirius, just be safe. I need a godfather to clear. Got it?" Tears formed in the spaces around Sirius's eyes. A couple tears made their way out, and Harry choked back a sob as well.

                "Don't worry Harry. I'll see you again, and give you the best home I can. I promise." He stood, as did Harry. They hugged for a few seconds, before Sirius turned around to go into muggle London, and Harry left a bunch of sickles on the table before reentering Diagon Alley.

                Harry's spirits immediately rose once he got back into the long avenue of bustling shops. He went to the Apothecary and bought a large jar of floo-powder. He decided he would need to buy muggle clothes, which required muggle money. He didn't remember where, but he could remember reading that it was hard to haggle with Goblins, because they could read thoughts. He walked into Gringotts Wizarding Bank, and approached an open teller. 

"I'd like to convert to muggle currency, please" he stated, and placed six Galleons on the table. The Goblin looked at him, then at a piece of parchment.

"Today's exchange rate is…one Galleon to forty seven pounds. Twenty percent exchange rate leaves you with 225 pounds and sixty pence" Harry opened his eyes wide. That was a lot of money for a Galleon, and it was also a lot to give away just to exchange. 'Right, to plan B.'

"I think I'll exchange somewhere else." Harry said slowly, thinking strongly 'The bank in Hogsmeade offered me five percent exchange rate.'

"That does seem a bit high, doesn't it. How about ten percent exchange rate." The Goblin ventured. Harry smiled inwardly, it was working. 

"No, thank you." Harry began to pick up his Galleons and continued to think aloud 'Five percent in Hogsmeade.' The Goblin was debating in his mind whether to sink so low.

"Wait! Wait, sir. Four percent exchange rate." Harry froze. Christmas was really all year round, as long as you looked for it.

"Well, I guess. Why not?" Harry handed his six Galleons to the Goblin, who began scribbling on a sheet of parchment, and mumbling aloud.

"Okay. Six Galleons at 47 pounds. 282 pounds. Minus 4%…yes. Your money, Sir. Two hundred, seventy pounds, and seventy two pence. Good day." He handed Harry a large wad of bills, and a few coins. Harry eyes went wide in shock. He had never seen even Uncle Vernon ever hold so much money. Reality came back to him, and he struggled to remember how much he was making each day from Flourish and Blotts. Two Galleons a day. That meant almost one hundred pounds a day! That was a lot of muggle money for one day's work, and accepting so little, according to Spencer. No wonder wizards tend to be well off in muggle society, a little wizard money goes a long way.

With his new found wealth, Harry returned to Flourish and Blotts. He remained cheerful as he continued to restock the shelves. At five o'clock, Spencer called out of his office for Harry, and Harry, sweaty and tired, stumbled in.

"Yes?"

"It's five after. You should go home, try and sleep."

"But I'm only halfway done with the fourth box? I got over a hundred more books."

"Harry, I wouldda been very surprised if you had finished all the books without being familiar with the shop. You did very well today. Here. Now go and get some rest." Spencer handed Harry two Galleons, and Harry move back into the store. He refrained from returning to the box he had been working with and just searched through the shelves, glancing at some books. Fifteen minutes later, he approached the counter carrying; _Animagi: The Art of Self-Animalization, Spells and Metals, Muggle Contraptions and How They Work, 1001 Ways to Repair the Unrepairable._ Harry met up with James, and paid for the books and left with them in a large bag. Harry had some trouble carrying it, so he tried the shrinking spell. '_Minimus_'he said firmly, while flicking his wand. He tried six more times before James did it for him. Harry turned red with embarrassment, but put the now two inch bag into his pocket. He was about to use the floo, to get home, when he noticed he was still carrying a large amount of muggle money. Surely, the Dursleys wouldn't mind him not being home for a few more minutes. Or days. 

Harry exited Flourish and Blotts and proceeded through the Leaky Cauldron, picking up a bottle of Butterbeer as he continued into muggle London. He was surprised by the large number of cars everywhere. 'It must be, oh what's the term the muggles use, rush hour.' He walked along the streets until he found a store that seemed to sell clothes for teens, and he entered. He didn't care for any brands or any particular styles, but he knew what muggles wore, and what to look for. He browsed for what seemed like a long period of time, before selecting three pairs of new jeans, six different t-shirts, a pair of running shorts, a comfortable and inexpensive pair of shoes, a tank top, a few packages of boxer short, as well as socks. He even bought himself some nice smelling cologne, just in case he'd ever need it. He was wondering if he had enough money to pay for it. After all, he had never paid close attention to the economy in the muggle world. 

However, he did have enough, by twelve pounds and change, but enough it was, and he left the store with a wide smile on his face. He finally had some clothes of his own. He walked quickly back to the Leaky Cauldron, and used the fireplace there to travel back home.

Once he tumbled out of the fireplace, amidst a gasped from Aunt Petunia. Then she saw his shopping bags, and new clothes in them. She snatched them away before he could find his feet.

"Where did you get these?" She demanded, obviously thinking the clothes were too good for him, despite his fixing her plate.

"I bought them." He said casually. She eyed him suspiciously.

"You have no money. You stole them didn't you!" He thought this may happen.

"I have a job, remember? I got paid today, so I bought myself clothes. That's what people do when they earn money." She snorted, very much like an angry bull.

"How much do you get paid?"

"Probably the equivalent of forty pounds a day. I bought all this with my starting bonus." A lie, but he really didn't care. They had lied about his parents for ten years. Her eyes darted from Harry to the bag, and back again. He knew she was wondering what kind of evil she could do to him. A small smile crept at her lips.

"Dudley!! Come down here this instant. I have some new clothes for you." She shrieked. A rumbling was heard from upstairs, and Harry couldn't contain his rage. Who was she, the bitch who had kept the truth of his parents from him, who slandered him always, who tried to keep him from the only place he was happy, who treated him as a slave, even after he had preserved something she held dear to herself.. There was a pulse of energy that ran through him, and the bags gathered themselves into his hands. The rumbling upstairs continued.

"They are mine," he said quietly, but his voice made the house shudder. He turned and walked briskly up the stairs, past Dudley, and closed and locked his room. He wouldn't be eating dinner that night, he assumed, so he immediately opened his books and started working on his motorcycle. It became annoying, finding a problem, searching through the books to find a solution, and then finding a new problem to be fixed, so he sat for four hours, reading straight through _Spells and Metals_ and _1001 Ways to Repair the Unrepairable_. With the wealth of knowledge he quickly gained, dismantling his bike went extremely fast. His wand did all the work; Unscrewing screws and bolts, taking off pieces of the machine, cleaning away debris. In a little more than five minutes, his bike was all in pieces, organized around his room. He skipped to the chapter after everything was taken apart, and the first line tied a tight knot in his chest. **_After you have disassembled your contraption, you must clean and restore every component, before reassembling it by hand, without magic, as magic is only good for taking muggle things apart, and has not been correctly trained as of yet to rebuild things. _**'Shit, shit, shit' he thought. This was going to take a lot longer than he was led to believe by the first seven chapters. He was hungry, and it was nearly eleven o'clock. He decided to sneak downstairs for a quick bite. 

Avoiding all of the loud stairs, he snuck into the kitchen, and grabbed two apples and a slice of bread. Not bad for a late night snack. He was about to go upstairs, when hissing in the living room grabbed his attention. He strayed away from the stairs and moved close to the entrance to the room. It would be wrong to purposely listen in, so he would just unintentionally find himself listening.

"Vernon, you don't understand! That boy has to go. I don't want him here. Think what he could have done to the baby!" Harry pricked his ears up. Baby? What baby?

"Hold on a second Petunia. Tell me again, what happened?"

"I was knitting by myself, right here on the sofa, when he came flying out of the fireplace. He had these bags, full of clothes. He said he bought them, and I ask him with what money. He said he got paid, and a starting bonus got him these clothes. I said he couldn't have them, and wanted to give them to Dudders, you know how little my cute Dudders gets, and he said no, that they were his." Her voice dropped very low. "He did his abnormality at me, and he stole them back, and went to his room. I was too scared to get them back from him. He stole them from me, and he could have killed the baby! It he wasn't moving so I could feel him, I would have the police take the freak away for killing it. He could have killed the baby." There was silence for a while.

"Does he know about the baby?"

"No."

"Than how could he have killed it, even if he wanted to?"

"You know how those savages work. Always kill the innocent, children. If he knew I was pregnant he would have killed it I swear it. Did I tell you how the lights went out and the house shook when he took them from me? He was being a freak! I don't want him where he can hurt the baby."

"Petunia darling, as much as I want him to leave as well, where would he go? Remember the letter we got from his headmaster. He can't go anywhere else. If we force him to they will all come after us. All the freaks, and then what about the baby? It will be less safe then. We have to keep him here, whether we like it or not. If you're scared, then just stay away from him. I'll make sure he doesn't touch you, or harm the baby. C'mon, sweety. It'll be just fine when he goes back to that school. Have you thought of a name yet?" He heard her sigh.

"I like Michael. Maybe Michael Howard Dursley."

"Michael. Michael Dursley." Vernon chuckled. "It has a nice ring to it, doesn't it. We should get some sleep. I have work tomorrow, and you shouldn't strain yourself." Harry heard them stand, and rushed quietly up the stair and out of sight. So Aunt Petunia was pregnant with a boy. Damn! That means another cousin to beat up on him. What about if the baby was magical. That would be a sight to see. Harry ate his apples in silence, when he felt it again. A dull twinge in his forehead. He cursed heavily under his breath and crawled into bed. Slowly he was once again taken into Voldemort's lair.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Harry awoke, clutching his bleeding forehead, begging the father, the son, and any ghost to take the pain away. He grabbed a used tissue and dabbed fervently at his scar. Very shortly,  the tissue was saturated in the crimson liquid. As the blood flow slowed, Harry tapped his fingernail.

                "Professor."

                "_Yes Harry?_"

                "Four Dementors, two unknown Death-eaters. All tortured horrendously. I don't know the spell he used on the Dementors. Cruciatus on the Death-eaters. No deaths. The same woman was there this time, and he slapped her a bit. Black hair and yellow eyes. I don't know why, but I am not as tired this time. I fell very awake, though I don't feel like moving around."

                "_Did you recognized the location_?"

                "No. It was the same as last time. Same room."

                "_That's all?_"

                "Yes sir."

                "_Thank you Harry. Sleep well_" The connection died and Harry sat up. He walked to the bathroom and washed his face. He silently made his way back to his bedroom, and jumped in surprise to find Uncle Vernon looking around curiously. Harry didn't want to get his uncle's attention, fearing the worst, but it was going to happen anyhow.

                "Uncle Vernon?"

"Oh. Sorry Harry, didn't mean to intrude. You have some, some blood on your face."

"I know." There was some uncomfortable silence.

"I was told you were able to buy yourself some clothes today." Harry nodded. "Good, good for you. Don't let her get to you. She's still a bit…intolerant." Harry froze at this statement. Was Uncle Vernon, purple faced angry Uncle Vernon, calling Aunt Petunia intolerant? Despite Harry's pain he managed a faint smile.

"I know." There was another silence.

"I see you've really made some progress on your motorcycle."

"I only took it all apart. To put it back together I can't use magic. It hasn't evolved that far along." 'Bullocks! Just said magic.'

"Oh. Well, you can use my tools. When are you going to start on the car?" Harry thought about it a while.

"I think I'll rotate weekly. That way I work on both equally, but I can focus more on each of them."

"'t's a good idea. Here, I went around today and got you these. I hope they help." Harry opened a plastic bag and found all the necessary books regarding the mechanical standpoints of the car and motorcycle. Harry smiled widely and looked them over, while Vernon glanced at the open book on Harry's desk. "Can you do all of these...spells?"

"Um, with enough practice I should be able to. Why?"

"Just wondering. I'm going to go to sleep. See you tomorrow Harry." Uncle Vernon turned to leave.

"Uncle Vernon." The man turned slowly, as he didn't' want his large body to knock anything over.

"Yes, Harry?"

"Thank you, for the books, and for using my name. And or letting me keep my clothes."

"Your welcome. Good night."

"Goodnight, Uncle Vernon." He left the room, and Harry closed the door. He knew if he fell asleep, the nightmares would come, as they always did. Surprisingly, the thought that came to mind was Hermione. Did she ever go into his room while he was sleeping, or was it a dream? He wished it was a dream, but it made him feel so good when he thought it had really happened. To have her kiss him, even if it was on the cheek. It was only so clear to him now. He had a crush on Hermione, and he had kissed her. He should be happy, he should be laughing and smiling, but one thought was invading his thoughts. Ron. What would Ron think when he learned that Harry had kissed Hermione. Ron always was quick to get angry, and this would be no substitute. Harry would just have to conceal his feelings for Hermione, and watch hopelessly as Ron asks to date her. But Ron may never muster the courage. The thought amused Harry. But what about Hermione? Would she return his feelings. She had kissed him, but she was upset. He was kicking himself for taking advantage of her. He should have never kissed her. What if she hated him. What if she never wanted to speak to him again?

"Slow down." He told himself. He had to focus on something or Cedric…Cedric…Cedric and Hermione, and Ron, and Malfoy, and Azkaban would invade his mind and drive him insane. He had a motorcycle in hundreds of pieces sitting in front of him, and he said he would put it back together. He started piece by piece, like he had planned, taking off the rust, putting it back into shape, before restoring it from it's scratches and repolishing it. Some of the spells were quite difficult, depending on the metal. Steel, which was a very difficult metal to do magic on was used a lot in these motorcycles. His first screw, to return it into perfect condition took over thirty minutes. He continued at a snail like pace, until with one last glance at the clock reading 4:52, he fell asleep.

Another chapter done, and a thousand apologies to give. Sorry for taking so long, maybe a week for this miserable little chapter. I hate having 4 tennis matches in one damn week. Sorry to everyone. I NEED REVIEWS. I am very angry at the world in general, minus my faithful reviewers. I read a pretty bad fic; I won't even mention the title or author. It sucked. A lot. It was six chapters, like 5000 words, and it had 400 reviews. Someone explain it to me. I don't understand. Why do I not have these reviews? If there is any word you can spread of me to friends or acquaintances, then please do. I really need reviews.

HarryHermione4ever – I can't tell you if it was Hermione or not, or even if it actually happened. That would be cheating! But it was not Ivy, ok? That would just be wrong, even though she is attracted to Harry.

Stoneheart – My favorite reviewer. I was stretching credibility, wasn't I. Well, Aunt Petunia goes back to rejecting it. Vernon, however sees through the hate, and begins to accept it, but he will be alone. At least for a while. Vernon will learn to understand that magic can't solve everything, and I am quite sure, eventually he will have a traumatic event with magic, and it will be memorable. Harry was distracted, but begins to get his thoughts in line. He and Hermione will see little of each other from now on. it is sad, but like so many things are, such is life. I wish I was NAPPA's twin. He is god. No question. This is real, and I will do my best to keep it that way, but it will begin to get extreme. Harry, I think will become very, very powerful, but not omnipotent, and he will get his power by himself. Harry will be isolated much of this novel, but he will usually have someone isolated with him. As you may have guessed, he will isolate Uncle Vernon along with himself from Petunia and Dudley. I thank you for your enthusiasm, and swear to continue.

ADJ – I understand completely that you are happy it will take a while. It is not realistic, and you loose interest when it all happens too fast. You said "maybe if harry ran away people would realize that he is not a normal fourteen year old and can take care of himself" That will happen. He will end up taking care of more than himself. Harry is going to grow a lot magically, and he will leave to be by himself, less out of choice than it may seem. Fudge is going to eventually point the finger at Harry, and he will loose that finger for good. Harry will not become all-powerful, but he will become very powerful, by choice. He will also gain an interest in the dark arts, for reason that I can't disclose yet. I think it'll be a fun story. Malfoys, both of em, will end up playing major parts, and I think both will die, unexpectedly. (wink, wink) Anyway, thanks for reviewing, and enjoy.

Achilless – There is something we have to remember here. From his inexperience, Harry doesn't easily recognize when woman are giving him the look (the good one). He is very confused about it, and his growing hormonal feeling are confusing him as well. He recognizes his physical attraction to Hermione this chapter, but it will take him a while to realize the depth of his feelings for her.

Kneazle – Yes, Harry does seem to bounce back, but I have experienced depression in family members. Depression is never constant. It varies in severity. Harry is going through a good phase now, but it will change throughout my pretty little fic. Harry won't fight for Hermione, because he fears Ron's wrath, well not really his wrath, but loosing Ron as a friend. Ron will ask Hermione out when Harry is gone, and she will tell hi no, and why. Ron will become jealous of Harry, but Harry will be in…San Fran? LA? NY? Hong Kong? Somewhere far away. Ron will grow up, and he will see the futility of pursuing Hermione. So realistically, Hermione will have noone fighting over her, just two guys who love her, and both stay away, for different reasons. Or the same reason, just reversed. Kind of. Does that make sense to you? I assure you, there will be no walks on the beach. It's too fluffy, and would not fit in the little scenarios I have created in my crazy little mind. Thanks for the reviews ad happy reading.

Freda Potter – Freda, Freda, Freda. How could you even suggest that I put Harry in leather? Does Harry really seem like that type of person? C'mon! Be realistic. Harry isn't leather type of guy, unless it is necessary, like when riding his motorcycle when he finally finishes it. So I may be nice and throw it in. Sirius. That's a thought. I never really thought of including him very much. I think when Harry disappears I may send Sirius after him, but who knows. Sirius will always be funny and humorous.

Nibowin Black – Whoa. Slow down there tiger. A lot to ask in a few lines. Harry will go through fixing them, but he won't go into too much detail. I'm going to tell **you **how to fix **your** car. Hehe. Well now, the Ivy sex thing. It's not that she necessarily wanted to screw him, more that she wanted to maybe see him, watch him, seduce him. Try to overpower him with her sexual prowess. Intimidate him, and maybe screw him, but I made sure it was cloudy for a reason. We are not let on to how far Ivy would have gone. Maybe she was attracted to him for the same reasons of all the women in the wizarding world, he's a celebrity. She could be after him for the same reasons. We just don't know. Thanks for the review.

Ryoko Blue – (Everyone. This person is an amazing author. If you haven't read his stories, go do it NOW!!) Lemme ask you something. Some of these weird folk come up to you and take your kid to this unknown school somewhere that you've never heard of, and they send home excellent grades. Your kid can't show you anything she's done because of legal restrictions. Wouldn't you still be just a little suspicious of what's going on at that school, so far away with no real hard evidence of what she's doing? I know I would. It's a matter of a second opinion, they get from harry. They are a bit out of the ordinary, but not all parents are the same. 


	10. The Not So Chance Meeting

                Harry awoke to the normal beeping of his alarm clock. On his third swing he hit it, and it silenced. It was Harry's birthday today, but he didn't know it. Getting into the rhythm everyday had led him to forget about days of the week, and month. He just went on painfully, waking, working, suffering and sleeping. 

                He dressed quickly and went out to run as usual. Over the last few weeks Harry guessed he had gotten his distance up to four miles each morning. He like feeling the fresh, clean air fly by his face. It was the best thing he could get without using his Firebolt, safely stowed in his trunk. He returned and showered, before cooking breakfast and leaving for work. He got annoyed with taking the floo every morning, and was looking into teaching himself to apperate. Maybe it would be useful someday. 

                One thought had been increasingly haunting him for the last few weeks. He was absolutely sure that he had a crush on Hermione. She wasn't model material, but he couldn't help but feel more that friendly urges when he thought of her. He knew this was bad, wrong, immoral, but he couldn't help it. He continually tried to weigh the consequences of his actions. If he went after Hermione, judging from the way she treated Ron at the end of the year, she would reject him harshly, and it would ruin their friendship. Ron would probably try to murder Harry, maybe even go so far as to join the ranks of the Death-eaters. Even if Hermione turned him down, Ron would probably never forgive him. He was wracking his brain, coming up with some of the most extreme ideas just to solve his problem. In the end, he decided to let it alone, let time take its course. Be silent and patient. This resolution still did not stop him from thinking of crazier ideas. 

                But, as he so cleverly dubbed it, the Ron factor, would not leave his mind, and slowly drove him into dangerous amounts of frustration. Dudley and Vernon often walked in on Harry grabbing his hair and attempting to pull it all out. Harry's attacks from Voldemort didn't help the situation. Yet life went on, and so did Harry. 

                He arrived at work, and stocked, and restocked, and moved and displayed hundreds of books flawlessly. His muscles had become stronger, and the lifting didn't tire him any longer. His day was going uneventfully as usual, until about three o'clock, when Spencer called him to the back office. Harry finished rearranging the simple spells section, and casually strolled into the office. He carefully maneuvered through the stacks of books, until he found the desk once again. He took a seat opposite Spencer, and waited for him to stop scribbling.

                "Harry, here a' Flourish and Blotts, we send a thank you note t' our best customers o' each month. Yeh have no idea what a shock it was t' see yer name as our biggest buyer. I need yeh t' explain this to me." He handed Harry a piece of parchment with a list of all the books Harry had bought over the last month.

                "What do you want to know?"

                "Why yeh bought _The Cruciatus Curse: The Inner Workings_?"

                "I thought it would go well with _Is It Beatable? The Cruciatus Curse_."

                " And _109,537 Useful Potions_?"

                "I thought they would be…useful."

                "_Animagi: The Art of Animalization_?"

                "My dad was one. It fascinates me."

                "_The Aurors Handbook_?"

                "I have to know how to protect myself."

                "Harry, I'm gunna be frank wit ya. Yeh spent more money on these books, than I paid yeh."

                "Oh."

                "Yeh didn't know?"

                "No…Well yes. I didn't really know. I liked the books, so I bought them. Is that wrong?"

                "No, no, no. But yer missing the point. Yer wastin' yer money." Harry began to argue, but Spencer waved him off. "I know yer goin' t' say yer not wastin' yer money, but when yer so young, yeh are. Have yeh read any of em?"

                "All the way through? Only a couple."

"I'm goin' t' make a deal with ya. Whenever yeh finish reading any of the books, and yeh've taken notes or whatever ya do wit em, just bring em back for a refund, as long as they're still in new condition. There's no need fer yeh t' spend so much. 'kay?" Harry sighed in defeat. He was really enjoying the books. It made him shudder to think he was turning into Hermione. He didn't think they would keep a record of the books he bought, but considering they did, he wasn't astonished that Spencer was a bit curious. The books he bought were rather rare, some even a bit dark, but he read them anyway. His desire to protect himself and his friends was strong, and he knew that, in the end, everyone would look to him, even if it was for something he did before he had controlled thought. 

He dejectedly went back to work, and at four fifty, being done with stocking for the day, he collected his pay from Spencer, and took the floo home.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Hermione was putting on some make-up. She had rarely done this, so it took her a while, because she couldn't let herself mess up. It was Harry's birthday, and she wanted to go and celebrate, visit him, maybe cheer him up. He was beginning to worry her. She wrote long detailed letters to him, describing what she was doing during the holiday, what she learned, what she wanted to learn, who she had heard from. Harry's letters were very short, **if** he wrote one. She fingered his latest response to her.

                _Hermione,_

_                                I am fine, as well as Hedwig. I see that you are enjoying your summer. I have had fewer attacks. I'm not sure if I've told you, but Aunt Petunia is pregnant, and she and the baby are well. Vernon is well, and so is Dudley, if you care. My motorcycle is coming along fine, and Vernon's car looks spectacular, though I still am working on the engine. _

_                                Talk to you soon,_

_                                                Harry_

                Something about it wasn't right. He seemed off. She tried to read between the lines, but the harder she looked, the more confused she became. She checked her clock, 2:47. She thought she would show up at three, and give Harry his present. Maybe even get him to kiss her. She would like that. She stood and grabbed her long dark cloak, because she didn't want to get ashes all over her dress. She wanted to look perfect for him, but not obvious. Just enough so that she could tell if he liked her. Men were so obvious, just Harry hid his emotions so well recently, she didn't know what to think. 

                At three o'clock, the time Professor Dumbledore agreed to lift the barrier to the Dursley's fireplace, Hermione stepped into the flames of her own fireplace, and shouted 'The Dursleys.' She felt a nauseating tug and rapid spinning as hundreds of fireplaces zoomed by her at impossible speeds. Suddenly, there was a sharp tug and she fell onto solid ground. Expecting to be at Harry's house, she stood quickly and put on a smile, only to have it replaced with a frown. She was in her own living room. At first she didn't believe it, but upon closer inspection, it was true. She just went on the most sickening journey to nowhere. It was unlike Dumbledore to be late, but perhaps she was early. Not all clocks were set exactly the same. She sat in a plush armchair near the fire, and waited for three minutes, calming her stomach, and anticipating her arrival at the Dursleys', if it would allow her to go there this time. 

                She stood slowly, and tossed in a second pinch of floo powder, before shouting 'The Dursleys' and being sucked into the flames once again. She closed her eyes and tried to think of pleasant things, but her mind drew a blank. She guessed it was about the same place where she felt the sharp turn last time, that she fell out of a fireplace, and onto a short and poorly padded carpet. She opened her eyes, and smiled at the unfamiliar carpet. She stood and caught site of a huge man looking at her curiously over his newspaper. She knew who he was, but really didn't want to get him angry. Harry hadn't said anything negative about his "family" but that didn't necessarily mean they weren't mean to him. 

                "Is Harry here?" She said as innocently as she could. She could feel the tension rising. The man put a finger to his lips, motioning her to be quiet. He leaned forward and began to whisper.

                "Harry's at work right now, but he usually gets in about five, five-fifteen. You can come back then or wait for him in his room. Petunia wouldn't like you to be here, so be quiet. Don't use the fourth stair either, it squeaks a lot and you'll be sure to wake her." This was nothing like the description she sensed from Harry about the Dursleys. Maybe they had changed for a reason unknown to her. Harry told her very little about anything that happened. She decided to wait for him in his room. She could then investigate into his private life, maybe learn his dirty little secrets. She whispered a quick thanks to the man with the paper, and crept up the stairs like a cat. She came to the top of the stairs, and opened a door. The room was large, with a television so big it was a wonder how they got it in. She knew this wasn't Harry's room, and went to the next door. This room was smaller than the first, and it was a mess. In the very dim light she could make out what she guessed was his motorcycle in the center of the room. She noticed a small lamp and turned it on. 

She gasped as she could now look around and see how he lived. What she thought was his motorcycle, was indeed his motorcycle, shiny and new, but missing pieces, which were laying rusty and warped around it. There were a score of bottles on his desk, and dozens of books all opened to certain pages laying around the room. She picked up one of the bottles, and read the label _Belhaven Scottish _Ale. An ashtray lay on a shelf next to her, with what looked like a half smoked cigarette in it. It smelled odd, but she attributed it to the mess of the room. She remembered the smell from when she went into a particularly run-down area of London, but she never knew where it came from. She didn't recognize this as Harry's room, she couldn't recognize it as Harry's room. The only familiar object she saw was the moving picture of Harry, Ron, and herself walking together, arm in arm. The three in the picture smiled at her, and she frowned back. Who was this, that owned this room, these books, those bottles. Who? She felt very out of place, unwanted, and sat in a very dark corner of the room, waiting fearfully, angrily, and anxiously for Harry to come home.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Harry fell out of the fireplace at number 4 Privet Drive. He stood and dusted the ashes from his clothes. The entire family was gathered in the living room, and any chatter that may have been going on had suddenly ceased upon his arrival. Vernon looked like he wanted to say something, but would not do so in front of Petunia and Dudley. The awkward silence grew, and it would take someone of strong will to break the tension.

                "So, how's the baby?" Petunia cringed and clutched her now bulging belly, while forcing what she hoped would be a friendly smile. Vernon had scared her into being decent to Harry, and he suspected it was happening, but he wasn't quite sure. He didn't need to be afraid about knowing she was pregnant either, as she was showing a lot. 

                "Fine, he's just fine."

                "Splendid, I think I'll regret not being here when he's born. I never met a baby before." Harry pulled a few notes from his pocket and counted it in front of them. He folded a fraction of it and handed it to his uncle. "This is for the part you ordered for my bike, fifty three pounds." 

                "Er, thank you, Harry." He smiled warmly, and Dudley looked around confused. He was told by Aunt Petunia to avoid Harry at all costs, so he was blind to their warmness to him. It made him scared, what did they know that he didn't.

                "You're welcome." He grinned and left the room, jogging up to his bedroom. He entered and saw that he left his lamp on. He usually didn't, but he must have forgotten. 

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Hermione heard the talking downstairs halt suddenly. Her boredom was getting to her, and she wanted something to do. She checked her watch and saw that it was five twenty. Where the bloody hell was he? A rapid thumping announced someone scaling the stairs, and the door opened. She held her breath and watched Harry look at the lamp quizzically. He just watched it for a second before strolling over to the closet. He opened it, and she couldn't make out what he was doing, but he emerged with a bottle, identical to the ones on his desk. He twisted it open, and gulped down half of the bottle like it was pumpkin juice. He replaced the cap, and set the bottle on his desk. Her anger and pity fought fiercely within her. She didn't know what to do, and stayed glued to the floor, watching, wanting to cry and scream at the same time. Harry made his way over to the ashtray and picked up what she thought was a cigarette. Hedwig, who had been silent and gone unnoticed for Hermione's entire stay, flew from her open cage and landed softly on Harry's shoulder, hooting beggingly. 

                "What do you want?" he said to her, and she hooted again, a little louder. He inhaled deeply, and blew the smoke into the owl's face. Hermione expected Hedwig to fight back or run, but the owl just breathed the smoke, before flying drunkenly out of the window. Harry laughed lightly and put out the cigarette in the ashtray. He then made his way over to his wardrobe, which she had avoided. He opened it, and her jaw fell. Inside were many simmering, boiling, smoking and frozen cauldrons. Harry was making a wide variety of potions, hidden from any suspicious family members. He took out a clipboard, and a quill, and wrote some things down, before turning off the lamp and exiting the room. He closed the door behind him, and she heard him enter the garage below. 

                A thought struck her, and she sprinted to the ashtray, picking up the butt. She smelled it carefully, and she dropped it back in. She fell into her corner, pulled her knees up to her face, and cried. It was quiet, and only tears, but she cried. She mourned the death of her friend, the person she loved, the person she had previously vowed not to love. He was no longer, and this, this poor ruin that inhabited his body was all that was left. 

                Time passed slowly, but she didn't move from her spot on the floor, in the darkest corner of the room. She strengthened her resolve, and she would have to face him, to save him, to salvage anything she could of him. It was the least she could do. He was always nice to her, respectful of her, and she owed him so much more. So many people did. A little before eleven o'clock that night, she was on the verge of sleep, when a familiar thumping on the stairs returned her to her senses. Harry entered the room, and turned on the lamp. He pulled out the chair of his desk, and she noticed restraints for the first time. Her mind was telling her to pop out of her dark cloak, to confront him now, but her shock paralyzed her. He grabbed a very large and thick book, picked up his quill, and began writing in it. She supposed it was some sort of workbook, maybe he was studying for his O.W.L.s. She watched in awe of the concentration he had on his face. His eyes had dark blue shadows underneath, and he looked terrible. He was lying to her, and he wasn't getting any sleep. 

                Very suddenly, he closed the book and pushed it away, and immediately fastened himself into his chair. She heard him whisper 'Here we go' and watched, shocked with horror, as blood trickled from his forehead, and into his eyes, onto his clothes, which, she noted, no longer looked like Dudley cast-offs. She saw him spasm and bleed for twenty two minutes, before he opened his eyes again. 

                He unclasp himself from his leather bindings, and cleaned his forehead and face expertly with a towel. He waved his wand at his shirt, and the blood disappeared. He finished with his scar, and lifted his head to look at the ceiling. He sighed and closed his eyes. She saw that he touched his fingernail, and began speaking.

                "Good evening professor – Yes, as always – No, I'm not drunk, but I have had a drink. And no I'm not going to drop it, that stuff is the only reason I'm still sane – Do you want to know what happened this time? – What do you mean, is it worth hearing? Everything about Voldemort is worth hearing – Yeah, there was a new woman this time. Greenish Blonde hair, I think, but it may have been the light, there wasn't much – I don't know why that is unexpected, I expected it – Well he killed that first woman last night, so who was he going to sleep with today? Let's be realistic, he may be evil, but he still needs a healthy fuck – Are you kidding me? C'mon, Dumbledore, you know he's not really going after Hogwarts. If I've learned anything from his waking moments, it's that he hates me more than the rest of the fucking planet. He would sacrifice himself if it was the only way to kill me – So far they have no progress with the screen you put on my floo – Oh, by the way, other than the new woman, he had a major torturing session today – No, no muggles this time. There were a bunch of Dementors, seven maybe, a two Death-eaters – Cruciatus curse on the wizards, I don't know the spell he used to torture the Dementors – I don't know, I couldn't hear what he was saying, but they weren't happy when they left – I'm not sure. What about the Weasley's and the Granger's. Have they been protected yet? – Bullocks Dumbledore, If the Ministry won't do it, I fucking will. This is crap. You can do it for Pete's sake – You really think Fudge will try to jail you for putting protection charms on homes? He would be thrown out – After he blamed Azkaban on a bunch of Death-eaters led by Sirius, you actually think he'll come around? He needs to be neutralized." An involuntary shudder rippled through Hermione's body. Harry was talking like he was going to kill him. Neutralize? Why would Harry want to neutralize him? "Anyway, I'll talk to you tomorrow, you know, after the next episode of _Voldemort; Up Close and Personal_. – Good night." Harry tapped his fingernail, placed his elbows on the desk and buried his head in them. She swore she saw his fingernail flash, and his head shot up again.

                "Back so soon, and I thought I would have to wait for tomorrow to speak with you again – Well, considering you thought something was important enough to call me back, I might as well hear what you had to say – Are you kidding me? – Wait, hold on a second, Hermione asked you if she could visit me today, and you turned off the screen, but you never mentioned it to me – Of course that's bad! If she saw my room she'd murder me, and save Voldemort the trouble. Jesus Christ…– Oh, you know very well what you did. Don't play me as a fool, I've learned a lot from the Malfoys this summer, even if it was involuntary – She doesn't appear to be here now, so that means either she never came, which you better hope and pray for, or she came, saw my room and split, which just prolongs my meager existence, and your as well – Shit! Today was my birthday, I never took off the owl repellant curse. Can you tell everyone I'm sorry anything they sent to me didn't get through – I knew you would make me do it, and I should, but I really don't want to explain how and why I did it, or was able to do it – Fine, fine, I start on them at work tomorrow – The Malfoys. There's one dastardly bunch. You know Lucius's wife? Do you know that he, get this, lends her to his friends. But anyway, you want to know what I could possibly learn from them? It is hard to explain in detail, but they taught me how to read people, and how to remain unreadable – That and he is trying to persuade Voldie to allow a siege on The Burrow before the end of the summer – Yeah, well you better get some sleep, I know how tiring it is to duel a couple Death-eaters – Well, for me four is a couple, you know you thrashed them, don't be so bloody modest – Yes, you say one of the not-so-mysterious assailants only had three fingers on his left hand? Yup, that was me. Lucius taught me that one, I used it on Goyle in my final duel – I thought you would like that. He would have a bit of a time handling his wand, wouldn't he – Very well. My motorcycle awaits. Talk to you tomorrow – Good night." He groaned aloud, and he started de-rusting a few last pieces from his bike. She sat in silence, too shocked to move. Harry had been swearing at the Headmaster, the greatest wizard of the generation. Who was this, this, this hooligan, and who did he think he was?

                A flutter of wings announced the return of Hedwig. She landed softly on Harry's shoulder and hooted gently as he ruffled her feathers. She nudged his cheek and hooted again. He ignored her. She nipped at his ear with her sharp pinching beak.

                "Owe, Owe! Stop it. Fine, but this is the last one for tonight. I swear I'll become the laughingstock of the wizarding world. I can see the headlines now, _Harry Potter and His Pothead Owl_. You really need to learn to control your addiction, bird. Your lucky I put the silencing charm on my room, or Vernon would have turned you into pie." She hooted joyfully and Harry picked up the joint from the ashtray. He lit it, puffed deeply, and exhaled into the face of the animal. Hedwig hooted and wavered drunkenly, before taking to flight. She flew around the room, blindly banging into everything, until she crashed into the wall with a thud, just above Hermione. The owl fell at her feet, and Harry picked the owl up and placed it on his bed. He laughed giddily and went back to rethreading a nut. Suddenly, he froze, and crawled over to her corner, facing her with his own dark, sullen, and intoxicated self. He stopped in front of her, and pushed back the hood of her cloak and his bloodshot eyes went wide in horror. His peripheral vision saw a hand appear from no where, headed right for his face. He said the first thing that came to mind. 

                "Crap."

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Harry woke up with a sever headache. His face hurt too much for it to be a hangover alone, and he struggled to remember where he was when he fell asleep. He wasn't hearing his alarm clock, so he curiously opened his eyes. That was his first mistake. The second was smiling at the furious face that hovered a number of feet above his. He touched his cheek and yelped in pain, there was a large welt there, from the slap the Hermione had sent him. Visions of the night before came flooding back, and a few new words came to mind.

                "Dumbledore, I hate you." He didn't mean it, but the fact that he said it was the last straw, and the face contorted in rage, went even redder, and a foot hit Harry in the stomach. He grunted and rolled over.

                "Get up." She snarled, her voice saturated in venom. God, even when she was furious with him, he couldn't help but realize that she was only looking after him, because she cared. Her anger meant more to him than anything else he could think of. He rose carefully and looked around. The sun was shining brightly through the window, and he checked the time and jumped back. For the first time, he was late for work. He groaned and began to search for his running clothes. Spencer wouldn't be mad he was late, but he felt work was the best excuse to leave her angry presence. Though he loved her anger, he feared it. 

                He changed into his shorts right in front of her, and searched frantically for a clean shirt. He began tying his shoes when she awoke from her stupor, and regained her seething voice.

                "Where in bloody hell do you  think your going?" He began tying his second shoe, and refused to look up at her, to let her see his humiliation, and his fear.

                "I am late for work, and I need to jog and eat. I'll be back soon." He finished with is shoes, and made his way to the door, but she was closer, and slammed it, pinning her body against it. If he really wanted to he could have removed her, both magically and physically, but he decided that his reprimand would be either now or later, and it was pointless to put it off.

                "Sit down." She hissed.

                "I prefer standing."

                "SIT DOWN!!!" Her voice shook his room. Again, he thanked himself for learning the silencing charm. He followed her orders. He could not win this battle, and now he couldn't run away. This one he would just have to loose. "Why?"

                "Why what?"

                "Why what?" She mocked him, putting on her best ugly face. "Why everything? Your drinking, doing drugs? Your having nightly attacks and not telling anyone!!! And you tell no one. NO ONE!!! You LIED to me. It's on paper, you lied to me." He knew there was no way out of this one. Maybe he could pass off the been, and the weed, but lying to her was going to get him killed.

                "Yeah, I did, didn't I." He said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. Hedwig chose this moment to wake up. She too was a bit startled, and flew crookedly to Harry's shoulder. He winced a little, and the bird hooted pleadingly. "No, Hedwig, not now."

                "Not ever." Added Hermione, still fuming. Hedwig saw the fury, and left through the open window. Never trust an intelligent animal to be loyal in a time of need.

                "Right, so where were we?" She took the opportunity to slap him on the back of the head. He glared at her, and she raised her hand again. He cowered away thinking 'She would make a bloody good Dark Lord.'

                "Why are you ILLEGALLY drinking BEER and smoking DRUGS?" He groaned, searching for the best answer, the one she wouldn't beat up on.

                "Because they make me feel good." Wrong answer. Her open palm hit the back of his head again, irritating his already bad headache. "Bugger, if you keep doing that your going to kill all my brain cells."

                "Does it matter? You're doing a fine job of that already." He fell silent. "Now are you going to answer me honestly?"

                "No." (slap) "Yes, Ummm, I drink beer because it, it dulls the pain in my forehead, and the pot is good for making me forget everything I see, after I tell Dumbledore. I'd be dead without it." He ventured to look up to her face for the first time. Her cold anger was replaced by a teary pity. He hated the pity, and wanted to tell her to go cry over the billions of starving people in the world, but knew that it would be an inconsiderate and inappropriate thing to say. She sat down on the floor next to him. They both looked straight ahead, very interested in their own shoes, afraid to look at each other.

                "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell anyone?" It was his turn to really respond.

                "Who? Bloody fucking who would I tell? You? Ha! You would kill me then lecture me, I don't need it. Ron? He'd laugh at me, but when he realized I wasn't lying he'd look at me like I was a freak. Which I probably am, but I don't need any of that either. Sirius? Not only can I not contact him, but he would chastise me and say bad Harry, don't ever do it again. Vernon? He'd probably drink with me, and try the weed for fun. I'm not even going to go into Petunia and Dudley. The rest of the Weasley's would cry and wail "poor Harry." I don't want that either. I suppose I could tell Snape, and he would be rid of me forever. So who? Who would I tell?" They sat in a long silence.

                "Dumbledore…"

                "He knew from the beginning, and tried to ease me away. He wouldn't get involved unless I asked him to."

                "Well, I know now, so I can help you."

                "Don't believe everything you read." He said haughtily.

                "What's that s'posed to mean?"

                "The mouse that helps the lion, always gets eaten." She turned and gave him a funny look. "I guess you never read that one, Ron will be so disappointed." 

                "Don't try to change the subject" she cried aloud, he resolve failing her miserably.

                "I'm saying that you can't take this away from me. I'll try to slow it down, my consumption, but these things keep me alive. I refuse to give it up." It was her turn to feel defeated.

                "Fine, but, try, I mean really try, to lessen your use. It doesn't make you cool or anything."

                "I wouldn't take it if it did." Another silence fell. He knew she was going over everything he had said all over again.

                "So you see HIM every night."

                "Yes, but for Voldemort it's morning. He wakes at about eleven every night."

                "Why did you say you hated Dumbledore?" So this was what was miffing her. He chuckled to himself.

                "You actually took that seriously? No, I don't hate him, but I'm angry he never told me you were coming. I could have avoided this. But, come to think of it, he probably arranged for this to happen. He is very clever, and subtle, even for an old geyser." He touched his cheek. "You must have hit me harder than you hit Malfoy."

                "Whatever, what did you say about the Malfoy's teaching you about people?"

                "Reading people? I kinda visit them…"

                "YOU WHAT!?!?"

                "Shhhh, I have a headache, be quiet and let me finish. I go undercover as a potential Death-Eater. I wanted to major in "Muggle Torture" so I could spy on Malfoy, Lucius, but from what I see them do, I could get them both multiple life sentences in Azkaban, if it still existed. And if I could get any solid evidence."

                "What if you get caught? Don't you care that what happens to you affects so many others? Your being irresponsibly dangerous."

                "Being there is the safest place for me, minus here and Hogwarts. Even Dumbledore agrees with me. They won't even attempt to look for me there, and my artificial history matches up. I am a separate person, and I disappear for a while."

                "When do you do this?" 

"At night, sometimes I take time off from work and do it during the day. Look, we can finish this later. I have to get ready for work, before going there. I'll visit you at about six, six thirty tonight. Okay?" She sighed, she felt she had made no progress, but began to understand his turmoil, even if she didn't approve of the way he controlled it. She nodded glumly and got up. She opened the door and exited the room, halting in the hallway.

                "Do you want your birthday present?" She hid her excitement well under her layers of disappointment, sadness, pity and anger. She planned to confess her love to him, and kiss him. She knew she saw something when she kissed him at her house, and she had convinced herself he had feelings for her, and that she should act upon that assumption. It was rash, especially for her, but she deemed it necessary because of Harry's screening of his emotions. 

                "No, I'll get it from you later, when I'll actually enjoy it. This is a piss-poor mood to give gifts in." She nodded understandingly and left. He never saw the tears trickle down her face.

                19 Reviews for my last chapter, seriously…I love you guys. If I wasn't so reserved with my emotions I would probably cry. I love you all and beg you to continue. Pass word on of me, I want 100 reviews before I post the next chapter. 1-0-0. Okay? Do I hear grumbling? I'd better not. Oh, and If you want me to review your story, just ask. I am very open for reading my reviewers stories, and reviewing them (as long as it is not D/Hr, D/G, slash). This is my first fic and whether I write anymore depends on the performance of this fic. So far I've only gotten good input, and it makes me happy, but I would really enjoy to see someone honestly review with a critical eye. 

RJLL – I love when people review something they don't go for, and enjoy, especially when it's mine;-) I know I'm special, but usually when people say I've got something special going on, they mean I ought to be in special-ed, But I like your special better. Thanx for the review.

tsuki tatsu – I'm glad you enjoyed it. Yes, It is a bit disturbing, I was in a dark mood then. I suppose it could happen. I try to go as extreme as possible with keeping it real and believable. So far, from what all my beloved reviewers say, I think I'm doing alright.

ADJ – I am not a god like NAPPA, I tripped yesterday and I DO bleed. (curses brother for driving away when half in the car). I do go brick by brick building slowly, but if I know anything about myself, I know that I get impatient, and hurry, and then I f$#@-up royally. I am trying to stop from doing that, which is why I need reviewers to say "chap 1-16 was great, awesome, but after that you went too fast, not enough detail, lame…" I need people to tell me when I first go wrong, which is why I particularly love Stoneheart, he/she tells me frankly what I do wrong, inconsistently, and it keeps me on track. So, you like dueling, I don't know how much there will be. There will be a lot of fighting, but I planned on making it more physical, as I have no experience with writing dueling (or anything else for that matter). I don't like draco at all, and I don't like Ron, but I am going to pay him a respect and not make as much of a, a, a, a, self-centered, self-pitying fool? He will grow up like everyone else, except maybe for Sirius. I love Sirius as a character, but I just can't write him well. I find too many contradictions, and it confuses me. I.E. Fun-loving prankster, stiff parent, protective, careless. It is hard to do, which is why I also love well done Sirius stories, because I marvel at the difficulty it takes to write em. No more waiting for u, another chapter done. If you review anyone else who enjoys H/Hr, send em my way. Thanx as always.

Duke of Earl – I like the way you think, but I had planned to leave the writer in the dark a bit. In this chapter you may have noticed that I go into each of their perspectives, yet I don't do them simultaneously, so you only get one at a time, to leave the thoughts of the other out there, suspected, but unsure. Also, periods of time will flash by, and we will go back and examine, so not everything is known. Right, the Hermione is blah, blah, blah… I was having a writers block in the idle of a chapter, and  I had just thought of a good way to continue through, and I needed something down, so I went with the cliché. It won't happen again, I promise.

Kneazle – Nice to speak with you again. I'm not going to discuss your rant, but I read it and second it. My chapters are getting steadily longer, This one, without my responses to people is 5,600 something. Not bad for 2 hours work, but then add on the 2 hours editing, the 5 hours rewriting because my crap computer chewed it up and spit it out, and I'm just happy I'm done here. Vernon/Harry, in case anyone that sick is reading will not become intimate *mumbles something about sick perverts while a few "damn"'s echo from the crowd*** **They will become accepting of each other, but not much more. The baby will become a character in my six year fic. It will not be magical, sorry to kill the suspense, but it will know of Harry's magic, and it will adore him. I'm sorry you and your friends went through a similar situation. Relationships are too much trouble, which is why I favor one night stands. (kidding) Hey, Don't be dissing Voldemort. Him being a pervert isn't new, its just the first time its been made public. Thank you for your support, and I will continue happily on my way. 

Stoneheart – Of course Voldemort gets some. Hitler was just a freak. All the downright evil have to get some, or they aren't evil enough. Sexual torture has to be the worst (though I may be wrong from my lack of experience, this is just logic going on). Vernon gets some because we are liking him in my novel, at least for the time being. Dudley, in Harry's clothes, don't you see? Put on your glasses. Of course Dudley wouldn't fit, but she would force the clothes on anyway, tearing them. So Harry, in the end would receive his clothes back, torn to pieces. Petunia is an evil one. I fixed the dialog glitch, thanx for pointing it out. Yes we do idolize Harry, and as men aspire to be the modest, popular all-round good guy that gets the girl. I don't see what woman see in Ron. His straightforwardness? C'mon, that's no fun. Hermione will see Harry a couple of times more before he goes pop and is no longer on the island. Though I like to think of England as more of a lily pad, all along, sitting in the water. Sorry if I offended and British peeps, but I just don't see it as an island. Greenland, now that's a bloody island;-).  No need to be brief. I don't dislike, but I don't enjoy the "Great chapter, Keep writing…" reviews. Yours make me smile, and laugh. Thank you, and have a great journey through the world of fan fiction (a.k.a. Wannabe writers, just like me)

Freda Potter – Freda, Freda, Freda, again I have to chastise you!!! In one small trivial way, you are right, Harry wasn't the motorcycle type, but don't you watch those silly anti-drug commercials. The largest affect on a child, or teen, is his parents. Harry just got his parent, who he adores. Harry wants to be like Sirius, in a way, so he wants the motorcycle. It gives him something to do. JKR never said anything about Sirius in leather, so why would Harry want leather? Silly girl! You should reflect on the sinful thought you have had, and then read some more good ole fan fiction. Harry will wear leather, eventually, but it will be small and not that important. In other words if you are reading my fic just to see Harry in leather, than I recommend you stop now, as long as you come back and review for me every so often. Thanks. 

Hayley – I am kind of thick, considering I am responding at 4:37, no 38 in the morning, after staying up all night, so would you mind clarifying what you were talking about in your review, I would appreciate it. Thank you for reviewing.

Thank you to everyone who I didn't respond to directly. There may be a few reasons why I didn't respond to you, if you just told me to keep going and that it was a good chapter, then There isn't much I can say other than thanx. Otherwise, I may have answered your questions or comments in one of the above responses and was too tired to repeat it. Read them, ^  Otherwise, I'm going o pass out soon, and just say something and I'll go back and look at it if you want and write a double response (ooooooh) next chapter.

Thank You, Everybody, for the time you spent reading and reviewing my humble work, I hope to hear from you again soon. For everyone else, Please Read and Review!! Flame if you have to, I accept everything. Happy reading!!!


	11. Who Likes Hedwig?

**Sorry!!!**         Everyone, I am cordially sorry for a number of things. First of all, the asking for reviews. MY MISTAKE!!! I'm a newbie (I'm new) at writing fan-fiction, and now that I see it, It was arrogant, annoying, and selfish of me. I would defend myself, saying that I only asked for two (I had 98, and wanted to reach 100, it is and ideal number of sorts) but I see now that it was unfair of me. **Wraith **said don't worry about **Hayley** saying asking for reviews was wrong, and that my story isn't that good. My story is only as good as people say it is. Hayley was right. It was selfish and inconsiderate of me. I apologize to everyone, and I promise it won't happen again. I hope that those of you who have returned to continue reading can forgive me, and I wish you all enjoy this chapter

                                I am sorry about the delay, but I have a question. What are you supposed to do when Optimum Online goes down? It just disconnects sometimes, and it pisses me off. I would have updated 3 days ago. The chapter was done. Well, it's here now, so have a ball.

"Sorry I'm late."

                "Don't worry 'bout it. As long as it ain't gunna become a habit." Harry put his cloak in the closet at the back of the shop. Afterwards, he strolled into the bathroom, and completed his mask. He wasn't tired at all, and silently thanked Hermione for knocking him into his dreamless snooze. It was the longest period of time he had slept in weeks. 

                Immediately, Harry dove into his work. He was very efficient at stocking shelves now, and could achieve thousands of books a day. His intense work ethics guaranteed that the time was used well, and passed quickly. A large percentage of the books he had initially bought were returned for a refund, but he kept a few for more in depth reading. His profits over the summer were stunning. In only the first month he calculated that he earned over two thousand seven hundred pounds, after exchanging it for a steady four percent.

                The late afternoon sun cast a bright glow all around Diagon Alley, and Harry sighed as he unloaded the last book of the day. It was five-o-eight, yet he felt as if it was lunchtime. His day went by quickly, and effortlessly, as usual, with no interruptions, minus laughingly reprimanding a young boy for attempting to climb the bookshelves. The incident brought a smile to his face. He wished he could remember being that carefree, that innocent…that happy.

                "Spencer, I'm off!  Got some things to do before I get home" Harry yelled blindly into the large and still unbelievable unorganized office. 

                "C'mon, git yer pay!"

                "Nah, I'll get it from you tomorrow. See you then!"

                "Alrighty den, see yeh tomorrow." Harry tossed the pinch of Floo Powder into the roaring fire, and with a 'pop' he disappeared.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                She sat staring blankly into the fireplace. It troubled her that Harry hadn't popped out yet. He had promised to finish the conversation with her at six o'clock. It was now nearing eight, and she was getting worried. A thump stole her attention. She bolted upright and turned quickly to see Crookshanks hiss at the scratching tower she had knocked over. She sighed for the countless time that evening. She had tried to floo over to the Dursleys' to check on him, but it wouldn't let her through. She knew that there had to be a way for her to get there. She could attempt to apperate, as long as she had a full grown wizard with her. McGonagall secretly gave Hermione an apperating permit prior to her departure from Hogwarts. This way, Hermione would be advanced as always in her studies. The lack of a wizard and the logic that there must be anti-apperation wards around Harry's house discouraged her.

                A sudden thought struck her. What about apperating through the floo? She vaguely remembered reading in a book of little-known facts of the wizarding world that people had apperated into and out of the floo network at need, so why couldn't she apperate by the barrier. She felt she was doing very well with the apparition training. Her inexperience scared her, but her resolve was strong. She couldn't just sit and do nothing while, in her opinion, Harry eroded away.

                She took out her wand and fingered it for a few seconds. The thought entered that maybe Harry never planned to arrive at all, maybe he stood her up on purpose? Maybe he was going to separate himself from her. It angered her, not as a girl in love, but as a longtime friend who cared. It was unlike him to do such things. As a matter of fact, it was unlike him to do many of the things he was doing. It had to be stopped. Her courage growing, she threw a pinch of floo powder into the fire, and stepped in it. She hesitated. What if she couldn't apperate in? What if she go stuck, did something wrong? _Too bad_. She had to do this. 

                "The Dursleys'" she said, her voice wavering. She forced her eyes open, anticipating the Dursleys' fireplace. She saw it up ahead, flying towards her spinning form. Just before she would feel the sharp rejection, she flicked her wand and screamed "_Transportus_" while envisioning herself on the other side of the invisible barrier. To her delight, it worked, and she soon fell out of the fireplace in the Dursley's house.

                She stood and brushed herself off while glancing around. She heard a shrill and annoying voice coming from the kitchen. 

                "Is IT home yet?" the voice said with hate.

                "I didn't see him. Just relax. You get too tense with the baby." A deep throaty voice responded.

                "I heard him go into his room. I think he's upstairs" said a whiny voice. Even when he wasn't whining, Dudley sounded like he was. Hermione didn't listen to anymore. Her anger swelled. He was home, and safe, and he just didn't show up on the hopes that she wouldn't come and see him. He was being such a prat, if she didn't love him it would be unbearable. She didn't bother to watch the creaky stairs as she pounded up the flight and towards him room. She threw the door open and ran up to him as soon as her eyes registered him in the light of the single lamp. She stalked up to him and stopped, as a reaction his arms went up to protect his head. Another time she would have found it funny, but the raw fear and exhaustion his body expressed had her hesitate, and step backwards. She never knew him to be afraid of anyone, or anything, and here he was cringing at her, his best friend. She took another deliberate step back, and her eyes went wide with horror. Harry was shirtless, wearing a bag of ice on his right shoulder and a bandage hanging from his half bandaged left wrist. His right leg was in a hastily tied splint, and on the desk to his left was an opened book on injuries and how to treat them. He looked up at her, fresh tears still lingering on his face. His eyes were dark and dull, and had large bags underneath. His hair was unruly, even more than usual, and singed near his left temple. He frowned. He had every reason to, so she wouldn't pester him.

                "Sorry I didn't show…" he mumbled half heartedly. She didn't respond, her emotions battling fiercely inside. Her anger, pity, frustration and sadness all were driving hard to get out. He went back to his injuries, and she helped him bandage his arm. She worked silently, knowing any yelling she had to do could wait. 

                Ten minutes later, _Emergency Medical Magic_ was closed and placed back on Harry's bookcase. He had repaired the broken bone in his leg, but it recommended keeping it splinted for twenty four hours or so, for extra support to prevent complications. All of his cuts and bruises were healed, but the deep aches refused to go away. His mouth clenched every time he moved. For the first time since he apologized, he spoke.

                "Hermione, can you please pass me that quill?" She looked at him doubtfully, but gave it to him anyway. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment and an inkwell. He started scribbling slowly and messily, and his right arm was still in very much pain. He refused any painkilling charms, because it would only encourage him to hurt the muscle more. She curiously looked over his shoulder as he wrote. She nodded in approval as he signed his name.

                Spencer,

I had a small accident with an unfriendly wizard and I hurt a lot. I ask for a few days off, probably two, to recover. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine as long as I take it easy and get some rest. You can send a reply with Hedwig here. No other  owl can get through the wards, so otherwise it would be futile. 

I'll be back soon enough. I promise.

                Harry

                He whistled softly, and Hedwig, seeing his pain landed on the desk instead. He tied it carefully to her leg and stoked her affectionately.

                "Take this to Spencer. Give him a while to write a note back before you leave alright?" Hedwig hooted understandingly, before tapping his fingernail with her beak. "Yes, I know. I'll call him in a little while. Hedwig nodded, if it was possible, and flew out of the window, and into the fading night. Harry watched her go, and Hermione witnessed the sense of loss that radiated around Harry after the bird left. 'Of course, for the last few weeks Hedwig is all he had to talk to.' Harry turned back to her, but thought better of it and turned in the chair, away from her. He grabbed firmly onto the desk and helped himself to stand. He waddled around his motorcycle and to his bed, grunting every time his weight was on his right foot. She winced for him. Finally he reached his bed, and lay himself down carefully. She strode over and helped him pull the sheets up over his chest. It was making her feel uncomfortable. 

                "Before you ask, I was going to leave the training today, y'know, resign from muggle torture. Dumbledore said it would be easy, and they would let me go. Before now I never knew Dumbledore to be wrong. Lucius guessed I was spying, and didn't want me to leave. He cut off his floo, as a lockdown procedure, and tried to attack me. My disguise disappeared, and he looked like he was going to piss his pants. He called for reinforcements and we had a nice duel. I stole Draco's Nimbus 2001 and flew to London. Went to the Leaky Cauldron and flooed home. I got home about thirty minutes ago, and that is why I'm late. I'm sorry." He panted slightly, gradually loosing his breath during his dialogue. He pathetically attempted to smile, but his grimacing face failed, and she forced herself to remain calm.

                "You tried to resign?"

                "Yes." His voice was raspy, and relieved. 

                "For me?" She asked hopefully, before she could stop herself. He looked at her strangely and answered slowly, looking carefully at her face.

                "No, this was planned last week, when I had gathered as much information as I could." Oh. She forced herself into impassiveness. '_Hogwarts was constructed with the use of seven hundred house-elves and fifteen goblins. The four founders were always present during construction, placing numerous classified charms on every brick and even the mortar. The foundation was laid…_' she recited in her head. He sighed and closed his eyes, ready to fall into rest. "We're not done yet, punk. You still have a bit of talking to do."

                "C'mon Hermione, not now, I'm injured, and tired."

                "YOU said later today."

                "That was before I felt the Cruciatus curse" he hissed with barely more than a whisper. It chilled her. She had never known him to be so cold. Lately everything about him scared her, and she was beginning to get desperate. 

                "I. Don't. Give. A. Flying. Fuck. You. Promised." Her hand slapped against her mouth. She had never sworn before, not in school, not at her friends, not at her parents, not even when screaming at Ron. Harry looked at her suspiciously, but settled his head back down. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

                "It's fine. I've heard a lot worse than that. Fine. You want it? Just remember you asked for it. Open my wardrobe." She hesitated in her shock, and didn't respond. "Go on." She meandered to the large wooded piece of furniture and opened the doors revealing over twenty simmering and boiling cauldrons. "I'm only saying this once, so pay attention. From left to right on the top shelf, Hemlock, the muggle poison. Effective on all humans and non-magical creatures. Smithston's Blood Breath. Pain induced poison, involves rapid deterioration of the esophagus. Optical Corrective Potion, with added Pixie toes, Billywig thorns, and seven spider eyes, three from Black Widow, four from Tarantula. When placed on eyes or glasses, provides perfectly corrected vision, and ability to see through clothes, walls, ect. The next three are a basic temporary power boost, with experimental ingredients to lower the boost, destroy the side effects, and extend the period of potency. Second shelf, left to right. First two are simmering Polyjuice potion. Next is Bi-Anilatius Potion. Allows animal transformations lasting thirty five minutes. Heckle's Bane, fatal draught minus blood of goblin, creates sleeping potion powerful enough to render a full-grown whale unconscious for two weeks. Right two are both attempts at Wolfs Bane Potion, so far unsuccessful. Third shelf. Veritaserum. Antimemorious Cocktail, stronger and more reliable than a memory charm, further increased potency by adding three drops dragon blood and Ganzywad film. Then is Tempius Minutus, slows time around you exponentially…"

                "STOP! Fine, I get the point. Just stop……Why are you making all of these?"

                "About half for personal use, the rest are sold in China, where the dark reign there has outlawed most of them, on the black market for a lot in money. One small cauldron of Polyjuice Potion goes for eighty galleons if you can smuggle it in. The protection put on Hedwig allows her to deliver flawlessly. Can I go to sleep now?" She was stunned.

                "Eighty Galleons?"

                "Yes"

                "Do you have any idea how much muggle money that is?"

                "With  my normal four percent interest, and a forty six to one exchange rate, about three thousand five hundred pounds sterling. And you wonder why I brew potions. Very profitable. Which is why it's no wonder many Slytherins and Ravenclaws major in potions after Hogwarts. Can I go to sleep yet?" She ignored the question.

                "Why don't more people do it?"

                "Because they can't smuggle it in. Is that all?"

                "No, is it illegal?"

                "Not here it isn't."

                "Merlin's Beard!"

                "Quite right." She looked at him with wonder, and he shifted uneasily. He hated being looked up to, especially by his friends. She noticed this and looked away. "What about your problems?" He cracked a grin, and began to laugh, before clutching himself in pain and going back to being unmoved and calm.

                "Which ones?"

                "Are you still drinking?"

                "Do you see any bottles?"

                "No, but that doesn't mean anything." He paused.

                "I've lessened, a little."

                "Really?"

                "I think so. I'm trying to go to sleep, and I haven't had any since you were here last night."

                "And the drugs?"

                "The same." She went into thought. "How did you get here anyway?" She went pink in the face and couldn't meet his gaze.

                "I, um, took the floo."

                "Are you sure?"

                "Yes."

                "You don't seem sure."

                "Well, I am."

                "No your not."

                "Just drop it." 

                "Maybe I should tell your parents."

                "You wouldn't!…have anything to tell."

                "Illegally apperating, tsk, tsk.

                "How did you know?"

                "You're so predictable, now let me go to sleep or I'll hex you then tell the Ministry. They're always looking for a scandal."

                "You're such a……prat."

                "Thank you. The door's behind you."

                "You can't make me go." His patience was running short.

                "I told you what you wanted to know, now leave me alone." He said quietly, and sharply. She groaned and searched his room desperately for something, anything, that would constitute a reason to stay.

                "Fine, I'll come back another time."

                "Very well. Good night." She stood and frowned. 

                "Good night. Feel better." He nodded and she left. Shortly afterwards, quiet whimpering could be heard in his room.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ 

                The next few days passed slowly for Hermione. She kept daily correspondence with Harry, who claimed to have finished his motorcycle, except for an addition of sorts that he had ordered from the United States. It was beyond her capacity to know why he needed this piece, something about a gas? Everything runs on gas, why did he need this? His letters were slightly longer, to her satisfaction. She saw her progress, though slow, was working. He occasionally sent bits of information he read, and discussed work. Ironically, though Harry enjoyed it, she thought working in a bookstore would be incredibly boring. Harry had sent a note around apologizing for the owl barrier that rejected his gifts, and told them to shrink them all into a box easy enough for just Hedwig to carry. He expressed to Hermione his joy of receiving his gifts.

                He got an Emergency Portkey from Sirius, the words "Run For Your Life" activated it and sent him to Dumbledore's office. Harry smartly placed it in his pocket, and planned to remember the words by repetition. The only problem was that the Portkey worked even when it wasn't held, so Harry appeared in Dumbledore's office, interrupting a rather large meeting. Dumbledore, as Harry wrote, excused himself to escort Harry to Hogsmeade where Harry could floo back. Supposedly, it was a meeting Dumbledore wanted to get out of. From then on Harry remembered the words without saying them.

                The Weasleys sent Harry a magical hairbrush, that charmed hair to stay down. He laughed at it, but fell eerily silent when it worked, and he looked good, which he wasn't very subtle in telling Hermione. The Weasleys also sent countless candies, some of which he forwarded to Hermione, expecting that she'd miss them with dentists for parents. Hermione smiled at the thought, and laughed when Harry wrote that he got a box of mystery candies from Gred and Forge. He claimed to have hid them for "everyone's safety." She lost temporary hope in getting with Harry, so went conservative when she sent him a self made leather (hear that Freda?) wand holster, that was mounted on his wrist, and with a quick flick sent his wand into his hand. He was extremely sincere in his thank you note, exclaiming the thoughtfulness and creativity and personal time she had put into it. It almost brought her to tears. Hadgrid sent Harry rock cakes and a thick bearskin carpet. Harry suspected from the size (it was large enough to cover the entire floor of the Dursleys' living room) that it was given from the giants. Hopefully a potential ally. Harry mentioned that he also received a strange muggle-type box from the Weasleys. It appeared that Hermione must have let slip that Harry was having "alcohol problems" because the twins ingeniously sent Harry a muggle coffee maker, for any hangovers he might have.

                Her being able to get through Dumbledore's barrier on Harry's floo scared her. If she could get through, so could anyone else. She force Harry to talk to Dumbledore about it. Allegedly, The fact she found is extremely little known. It was explained to her that no one ever does it, because if you can apperate, why does it matter in the floo? You don't need the floo after you can apperate, so no one learns of the flexibilities of combing floo and apperation. This calmed her fear, but she still wasn't sure. Even Dumbledore wasn't perfect 

                But her mind wasn't on that now. As she sat cross legged on her bed, she stared at the piece of parchment she received only hours before. There was something wrong with it. The wording was off, or something minute like that, but it was definitely his signature. Her parents reluctantly said it was fine, if she wanted to go, but she withheld her decision until she got a response from her headmaster. Out of boredom and confusion she read the letter again.

                Dearest Hermione,

I know you said you could not spend the summer here in Bulgaria with me, but I feel now as if things have changed. I have recently been injured in an accidental broomstick collision and am forced to remain in bed for the next two weeks. I have only felt cold since I have left your presence, and I want you to come to see me. I miss you, Hermione. I would not ask you to visit out of pity ('isn't that exactly what you're doing?'), but I would love to see you, my Hermione. Mother wishes to meet you as well. She wants to show you her skill with cooking. My heart is chilled when you are not around. Please come.

Love,

                Viktor

She sighed. Did she want to go? Yes. But the question popped into her head, Who needs me more? Harry or Viktor? His hypocrisy was tending to have her lean towards Harry. Krum didn't need her, he could have anyone else in the bloody world go and see him, and Harry needed her. Not so much needed her, she needed to help him. Harry could take care of himself, even if he was doing a piss poor job of it. But her thirst for travel was large. She wanted to see Bulgaria, and being alone in her home all day was beginning to get to her. She needed to find a open place, a new place. She desperately wanted to go. And her parents even agreed. However, she knew better than to go traipsing off without a word, without even checking if it was safe. That was why she owled her headmaster. If it was one hundred percent safe, she would go, and have the guilt mount on herself for leaving Harry alone, but she would go anyway. If the answer came back said anything like "there is no strong evidence of danger, but be cautious anyway…" or worse, than she would drop it all and stay with Harry. She loved him, but really needed to space herself. Either farther away or closer. Her isolated position was killing her, and time went on while she blindly mopped. 

The distinct tapping of a owl on her window woke her up. 'The moment of truth.' She thought she was excited to get a response from Professor Dumbledore, it was nothing compared to the happiness she felt when Hedwig entered, carrying a small slip of paper. She supposed Harry ran out of parchment. She greedily opened the letter, anything to occupy a few minutes of her time.

Hermione,

I'm glad you were able to read _Hogwarts: A History_ in only three days, a drastic improvement. I'm going crazy trying to get this Wolfsbane Potion to work. I almost had it last time, but this time it's even worse. No wonder Snape hate making it. I'm very concerned about your boredom. Spencer sent me a note saying that he took a trip to Madagascar to look into opening a branch there. Hence, Flourish and Blotts is closed for a week. I'll be home the entire time. If you want to feel welcome to drop in. It would be simply splendid to see you. I'm not getting much sleep at all, and not being able to talk to someone is driving me insane. Dumbledore is good and all, but he is usually strictly business. He's too busy to talk about personal or light matters. Don't bother responding to this. Just show up if you desire, or don't if you don't. I hope to see you.

                With Love,

                                Harry

                Her heart was screaming with happiness. She was wanted. Her heart was telling her Harry, but her mind forced her to think of Viktor so she would stay neutral. Again she anticipated Dumbledore's letter. Hedwig began to leave, but Hermione called her back.

                "You don't mind waiting a little, do you? I'm expecting a letter, and I may need to write a letter to Harry." The bird landed on Hermione's bed and puffed out her feathers. Hermione giggled and rubbed her affectionately. The owl's green eyes forced her to reminisce of Harry's, and in no time the was in a stupor, with  goofy smile along with misty eyes gracing her face. 

She didn't notice the second owl come in until it bit her ear. Perhaps harder than was necessary, but Hermione jolted awake and snatched the parchment from the owl's talon before it could be given to her.

Dear Ms. Granger,

Judging from your cryptic letter, I believe you are asking me whether it is safe for you to visit an injured Mr. Krum. Unfortunately, there are no perfectly safe places in the world any longer, and we all must be cautious and vigilant. However, if you desire to go, I can provide you with what I should hope is sufficient protection in case of an attack. In the unlikely event that there is an attack, I will have reinforcements prepared to join the mêlée. You need not worry yourself too much, yet worry is in order.

                I have faith in your decision,

                                Albus Dumbledore

She sighed as she remembered a quote she once read in a muggle novel "The Lord of the Rings" (Tolkien, What a great guy). It went "Go not to the elves for counsel, for they will say both yes and no." Dumbledore was definitely playing the part of an elf well. She found it amusing that he would call her short and direct letter cryptic, when his wasn't anything but. Her decision was made. Viktor would just have to have someone else whimper over him. She was going to visit Harry. She quickly scrawled a note to Viktor, saying she couldn't go, and tossed it to the Hogwarts owl, not even bothering to tie it on. 

"Thanks for waiting Hedwig…" she ruffled the owl's feathers "you can go back to Harry if you like. I have nothing to send to him, but hugs and kisses." The owl obvious understood, and started to sputter uncontrollably, before keeling over and playing dead. After a few seconds it got up, hooted happily, and flew out of the window, with a disgruntled tawny owl following after it. Hermione had to prepared herself to see Harry. She had to look pretty, but not look like she tried to look pretty. After a brief shower, and putting on a red sundress that accented her increased cleavage and cut just above the knee, she applied a small touch of makeup, brushed her hair so it was neat, even if it was bushy, and skipped down to the foreign artifacts room. She threw a pinch of the granular white powder into the fire and stepped in. She screamed "The Dursleys'" and was whisked away. She timed the upcoming jump point, and apperated by it with no trouble, before tumbling out of the fireplace at number four Privet Drive.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Harry was reading the newspaper. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. His motorcycle was done; he was only waiting for the tank to arrive. Because of the hazard warning, the special shipping was taking weeks. Vernon's car was doing exceptional too. It looked brand new, inside and out. The engine was rebuilt, as well as the transmission. One of the gears was shot, so he had to actually create a new one. That took a while. He let his Uncle turn on the engine the day before. His uncle smiled at him, with a real genuine smile. Harry felt as though he should fell awkward or scared, but he felt good, like he had accomplished something. The only problem was the brakes. After he could rebuild each set, he would be able to take care of the finishing touches, and bequeath it to Vernon. _Story continue on C3_. He kept on reading, trying to see any sign of Death-Eater activity. From what Ron told him, Rita Skeeter was creating a raucous with her stories, which both had pictures, and other evidence. Pressure on the ministry was high, and rumors of kicking Fudge out were becoming bolder. It's not that Harry wanted to ruin the poor guy's life, but he really felt that it was for the best. It still depressed him. Everything depressed him; his pregnant aunt, Dudley, his finished yet unfinished motorcycle, crime in London, Ron liking Hermione, Lucius using the Cruciatus Curse, it was all a mosaic of sadness. He couldn't let it show, because emotions were a weakness. He always knew that, and _The Auror's Handbook_ confirmed it. He just had to be indifferent, not let anything show, he had to be unflappable.

                "Vernon!!!" His aunt screamed from her sitting position, across the small kitchen table from Harry. He winced at her shrill voice. "Get down here this instant and open these pickles!" She had about three months left and was told to basically make everyone do everything for you. Harry was pleased to realize she was too afraid of him to make him do anything. The loud thumping on the stairs announced the arrival of Uncle Vernon, as he waddled into the kitchen. He picked up the jar and squeezed, slowly trying to turn the car off. After two minutes, huffing and puffing, he put the jar back down.

                "I – Can't – Do it." He gasped. "Harry – You try."

                "Sure." Harry said, and put down his paper. He was tempted to whip out his wand and do it, but shocking Petunia now would be bad. He lifted the jar, squeezed, and turned. With a small pop, the pressure on the cap was released, and it opened very easily. He put the pickles down and returned to his paper. When Petunia said nothing, and went back to making herself a sandwich, Vernon became uncomfortable.

                "Thank you, Harry." 

                "Your welcome." Harry remained expressionless and kept reading. Uncle Vernon left the kitchen and went back upstairs. Harry sipped his after-lunch tea, and continued to read some of the more interesting stories. Someone had stolen over four hundred cookies from a bakery in southern Wales, evidently, a bad case of the munchies as the perpetrators were found and arrested after being discovers with a significant amount of marijuana. Amateurs. There was a faint pop followed by the floor shaking a little. Harry recognized the sound and went into the living room to see who it was. 

                "Harry!" She yelled, and ran and threw her arms around him. He smiled at her, and rubbed her back a little, the broke the embrace, both a little awkward, yet none of it showing.

                "So, you decided to come. I can think of a bunch of things we can do, now that I can use magic."

                "BOY! Who are you talking to?" Came the same shrill voice from the kitchen.

                "A friend of my Godfather's." He called back. He was satisfied by her reaction, and turned back to Hermione. He took notice of her dress. She looked radiant in it, and he couldn't hold back the smile. She was his anchor, and she was one of the few people, the few things that made him happy. "C'mon, lets get up to my room before she asks questions." He led her quickly up the stairs and into his room. In the four days since she had been there, many of the loose pieces of his motorcycle were gone, and placed on the motorcycle, giving some extra space desperately needed in the small room. As soon as the door closed, the room expanded in size until it was twice as long. Hermione gasped.

                "Yeah, I, umm, needed some space so I learned to enlarge my room." She had grown accustomed to it being small, but now it was much more organized, and she supported his efforts.

                "It IS better. Your going to do exceptionally on the O.W.L.'s if you keep this up." She praised, and her praise was rare, he couldn't help but smile. "So, what can we do?"

                "We can snog our brains out…or you can help me with the Invisibility Charm." He smirked.

                "I'll choose the former." She raised her arms and walked towards him, as if she was going to pull him into a kiss, he froze, unable to move, his happiness was hidden under his bewilderment. Just as her hands were to pass his head, she dodged around him, walked to Hedwig's cage, picked up Hedwig, and gave Hedwig a kiss on the beak. The owl hooted, and stared at Harry with utter confusion. Harry could only do the same back. He had to break the tension, and started laughing.

                "That was good, ever thought of acting?" Hermione put on her best insulted look.

                "I was not acting! I was perfectly honest. Hedwig and I are overdue for a long make-out session." She winked at him, as Hedwig squirmed free, and escaped through the open window.

                "You must have really been bored to come here and kiss my bird."

                "Who else would I kiss? You?"

                "You're right, you did that already" He was amused by her blush, clearly someone enjoyed it. He kept himself from laughing at her. She was unstable at the time, and was embarrassed by it. On further thought he came to the conclusion that his comment was made in poor taste. He should have known better. "Well then, can we take a look at the invisibility charm, I'm not sure what I'm doing wrong.."

                "Here, let me see the book…" They spent the greater part of that afternoon together, trying to make Harry invisible. At one point his face disappeared, and she made a comment about it being an improvement, and they laughed. At around six Harry looked up from the book he was writing in, and watched her a long time, until she caught his gaze. He knew if he looked away, he would look guilty so he met her look with a smile.

                "What do you want for dinner?"

                "Whatever your Aunt makes is fine, if they'll let me eat here."

                "No, I make dinner for them, then come back up here and cook for myself, and, in this case, you. So what do you want?"

                "What exactly can you cook?" She asked skeptically.

                "Almost any common dishes. What do you want?"

                "What do you have to work with?"

                "Everything. What do you want?"

                "How about Penne Vodka, with a nice red wine." This startled him, but he accepted it.

                "Sure, anything for you." He upped and left, leaving her to her thoughts. _Anything for you. Anything for you._ The words went through her mind, scalding her with pleasure. The word were so sincere, so real, so beautiful.  He was everything to her, and more. Curiosity got the best of her, and she was wondering what he was writing in the huge book he had. It was took large to be a journal or diary. She opened to the page marked with a feather. And she read;

                _You are walking along a busy street and a man grabs a woman's purse. The man is stopped by other pedestrians and the bag is returned to the woman. The other pedestrians are furious at the man, and begin to physically harass him. What would you do?_

                There were twenty six possible answers, so she only looked at the one circled.

                _(J) You would attempt to stop the beating of the man, and make sure he is safe. You would then give him some available money, and try to help him economically, so he would not need to take those measures again._

                She looked at the title page of the book. _Animagi: The Art of Animalization_. She couldn't reason why such questions would be asked in this book, but her reasoning was cut short by Harry's entry into the room. She glance up at his body, and took note of his lean muscles on his arms.

                "So…"

                "Time to start dinner. Our dinner."

Thank you, every single one of you, and some of you more than once. Review if you like. It's your input that decides the fate of my fic. Some people don't like Harry on drugs and alcohol, and he'll ease off of it for a while. We will learn a little bit about how it affects him though. Alcohol will affect wizards different than muggles. (Remember way back? When Harry sees Voldie kill the kids? Voldie had 2 bottles vodka straight, and wasn't drunk. May become important, wink, wink) What I found fascinating as well, is the response to Hermione's reaction to Harry sinking. Some say poor Hermione, good for her, others that it isn't her business. We will see a bit to please both sides of this spectrum in the future.

 Next chapter may take a while, I am lost on where to go from here. Harry and Hermione won't get together yet, so don't get your hopes up. But the next chapter is causing me migraines. Where the fuck is the Excedrin. Tell me what you think, what you want, and you may just be lucky enough to get it.

On a final note, **Thank You EVERYONE, **And **SORRY** as well.


	12. Oh, The Power of Food

                Hermione was amazed by Harry's agility in his room. After materializing a stove, table and various pots and dishes, he went into his closet and came out with all the ingredients. She marveled as he bounced efficiently around his room, cooking their meal. Slowly, the smell of the sauce wafted to her senses, and she became drawn to the stove. She stood and silently made her way over, still trying to accept the fact that it smelled like Harry knew what he was doing, but one could never be sure. She was standing behind him, watching his actions as he hummed softly. The pink sauce sent fumes of ecstasy into the air, and she sighed contentedly. 

                Harry turned to see her smiling face, and grinned.

                "Wait until you taste it." She became eager for him to finish. The smell was torture enough. She saw he was doing other things as well. He was making a salad, and had just close the oven after putting something in it. The thought actually hit her that it was peculiar to have a makeshift kitchen in one's bedroom, but the again, magic in itself was peculiar. Harry turned to her, sending her his trademark grin.

                "It'll be done in five minutes. Do you want anything else?" 

                "No, it smells awfully good. How long have you been cooking?"

                "About three weeks. It is good fun, especially when you can do it well." He motioned for her to sit at a table, that had appeared with two matching chairs and a blue tablecloth. She did so, and Harry returned to the food. It was becoming unbearable, but very shortly, he returned with the salad. She was ready to dig in, but knew it was rude when he was still working on the food. He muttered the warming spell at the stove and oven, and went back into the closet. She could only imagine what he had in there. He returned with a bottle of sorts, and she remembered the joke she said when he asked her what she wanted for dinner.

                "I was kidding about the wine, Harry."

                "I know, but I have a few good ones."

                "It's illegal! And dangerous."

                "Don't worry about it. We won't drink much, and no one will know about it. I promise that neither of us will get drunk."

                "Harry, I don't feel comfortable drinking alcohol." He poured a very little amount in a wine glass and handed it to her.

                "Just try it." She ventured to sip it, and it took all of her control not to spray it out.

                "Eck, it's so bitter!" He nodded understandingly, and put the cork back in.

                "Don't worry, I have just the thing." He turned and went back into the closet as she was tortured by her untouched salad. After a minute, he returned with another bottle, this one a little bigger. He wordlessly poured another small drop into her glass, and she sipped it. It wasn't nearly as bitter as the other one. This one was actually very sweet, and it wasn't bad. The bitterness wasn't as strong, and it tasted good. 

                "How is it?"

                "I like this one. It isn't as sour." He smiled.

                "I thought you would like this one. Shall we begin?" She shot him a questioning look, and he nodded at the salad. She smiled, perhaps too far, and he sat across from her. They began silently, but the conversation started soon enough. She liked the vinaigrette and made sure he knew so. He said he got it out of one of his Aunt's old magazines, and promised to give her the recipe. They finished their salads, and she went back into her thoughts as he busied himself at the stove again. He returned, bearing a large portion of the pasta, and the fragrance engulfed her. She dug in immediately, and he followed suit. In not time, they were done, full to the brim and happy about it, but her thoughts returned, and he noticed the trouble look on her face.

                "What's wrong?"

                "Nothing really, I'm just trying to figure out the reason why there are questions about men stealing purses in your Animagus book."

                "Oh, well, you can't just become an Animagus, you have to know what animal you're similar to, in traits. I have to answer those three thousand questions to find out my animal, and so it takes a long time. I've been working on it for weeks. That reminds me, I honestly, really love this thing." He flicked his wrist and his wand appeared in his hand. "It is really great. You have no idea." She smiled at his praises, and couldn't hide a blush.

                "You would say that even if you don't like it." He smiled.

                "Probably, but the fact that I do like is what matters. What would you like for dessert?"

                "Um, what do you have." His evil smirk told her enough. "Never mind, let's see. Actually, I'm finished, Harry. I don't think I could. The penne was superb, really. But it was filling."

                "Uh uh. No you don't You have to try my newest invention." She groaned. "Don't worry, it's good, I think. I have created a Chocolate Butterscotch Cheesecake, and I need someone to try it."

                "I'm so honored" she said sarcastically. 

                "Hey! I don't let just anyone get a first taste of my creations."

                "I can't eat it. I'm done."

                "Just a taste. One bite. Please? Just try it."

                "Fine." She mumbled as she reclined in the chair. His cooking rivaled that of the house-elves, and she couldn't say no to him. Ever. He jumped up and sprinted again, into the closet, and returned carrying two small dishes, each with a good sized slice of a brownish, tanish looking cheesecake. "I heard you say only a taste."

                "Just take a taste then."

                "Honestly Harry, Is it any good?"

                "We're both about to find out."

                "You haven't tried it yet?"

                "Nope. It'll be an adventure. Don't you trust me?" He gave her a genuine insulted look. She picked up her fork, and took a small bit of the soft and creamy looking cake onto the utensil. He followed her, and they both held them in front of their faces.

                "You first, and you have to tell me how it is."

                "But…"

                "No buts, go on." She groaned and turned her gaze back to the suspicious article. She brought it under her nose and smelled it. It smelled good. Chocolaty and sweet, and creamy. It quelled her fears and she placed the fork in her mouth, and touched the cake with her tongue. Her mouth started singing in praise. It was everything a desert should be; sweet, creamy, soft, moist, and chocolaty with a distinct flavor of butterscotch. She pulled the fork out of her mouth, and pushed the cake around with her tongue, savoring it. She closed her eyes and allowed them to roll back in pleasure. She had never tasted anything like it. It was simply unbelievable good.

                "Well?" His words snapped her back into reality. She reluctantly swallowed, enjoying it so much.

                "It's incredible, Harry how did you ever make this?" She quickly took a large amount and shoved it greedily into her mouth. 

                "I took the recipe for chocolate cheesecake, and made some modifications. A touch more sugar, a decent amount of caramelized butterscotch candies, some buttermilk. I was hoping it would work."

                "It'ph wunnerphul" she said through another mouthful. He soon after tasted it himself, and he looked at it in shock.

                "It really is good! Oh, I should send Mrs. Weasley the recipe. I didn't know if it would be edible, but this. This is…"

                "Perfect." He smiled appreciatively at her.

                "And I thought you were just being polite." She rolled her eyes and wolfed down another bite. Five minutes later Harry finished his slice, and looked up to see her throwing her best begging face at him.

                "Is there any left?"

                "Maybe."

                "Can I have another slice, please?" He chuckled warmly.

                "Coming from someone too full to eat one slice, I don't know."

                "Don't tease Harry, I asked you nicely."

                "I'll tell you what. I'll give you half the cake to take home with you, so your parent can try it too. But I think you've had enough. Ron would never forgive me if I got you fat over the summer?"

                "What's that supposed to mean? And my parents wouldn't touch it. They'd say it's poisonous with all the sugar."

                "If you don't know, then I won't tell you."

                "Fine. Be a prat. Pass the wine." He looked at her oddly.

                "Hermione, as pleased as I am to introduce you to wine, this is your first time and you already had two glasses. I don't want to get you pissed, as humorous as Ron and I would find it. You still need to apperate home tonight."

                "I'm not at all drunk" she stated firmly, appalled by the idea, but then she thought about it. Her vision wasn't as clear as it could be, and she was a tad bit dizzy. But it was only two glasses of wine, that wasn't much.

                "Fine. But I still don't want you to go down that road. I could chug the bottle and not be affected, you wouldn't get passed your fifth glass without passing out or throwing up."

                "What do you know about drinking?" she snarled, angry at his assumptions. He stood sharply, and went to his bookcase. He took down a relatively thin book and tossed it to her.

                "Welcome to the world of the learned drinker." She flipped the book over and read the title. _Alcohol and Magic: Do They mix?_ She sighed.

                "You're crazy."

                "I can accept that as long as I'm not stupid. Do you remember Darius the Drunk, from History of Magic?"

                "Yeah, he was the best Auror and Dueling Champion in the 1700's. Why?

                "Do you know why he was so successful?" He was going to lecture her? She laughed at the thought.

                "Of course. He began training at age eight and by twenty was considered one of the most…"

                "Wrong. Never trust history books. They're biased and cover up dangerous truths."

                "How can you…"

                "Let me finish. He wasn't very powerful at all. Some people could maintain a grip on their wand when he sent disarming curses at them. He was as squib-like as possible without being one, but he discovered a little known fact. In the muggle world, men and women are effected differently. Generally women can drink more unless men build up a tolerance. In the magical world it's very different. Alcohol has the same effect on witches that it does on muggle women. Wizards, it's different. They don't know why, but the testosterone in men's bodies reacts with their magic and the alcohol to multiply the production of magic. It is a quick way to get a temporary magic boost if you're a wizard. Darius the Drunk would guzzle quarts of whiskey before dueling or otherwise. That is the only reason he could produce a decent hex, mind you."

                "So, you drink to become more powerful?"

                "No, I, I, I am not fully grown, so I can take more than muggle men, but I still get pissed with enough of it. It took dear old Darius one and a half gallons to become a touch drunk, and he usually couldn't drink his stomach that far.  I think I could take a pint of hard liquor, more of wine or beer. But, I resist. I just want it to ease the pain." She looked at him skeptically. "If you don't believe me, read the bloody book." His harsh words and cold glare made her shiver. He seemed to realize what he just did, and his face softened. "Sorry, I…didn't mean to snap at you." She took a moment to recover. 

                "It's alright Harry, I don't blame you. I know this is a hard time for you, and, and I want you to know I respect your privacy and all that, but I want to make sure your alright. I'm your friend and I care about you. I'll always be here to help you." He smiled at her, and it wasn't hard to tell that it was faked. The blankness in his eyes was too apparent.

                "I know, and I appreciate it." Her curiosity got the best of her, and she opened the book and started reading. She glanced up to see him return to writing in the Animagus book. He was very moody, and she was feeling a bit silly. She kept reading, not processing any of it, glancing at him every five minutes to make sure he was alright. Finally he called her name, and she looked up at him. She never noticed the silence of the house until then.

                "Hermione, it's almost ten thirty. Won't your parents be worried that your not home?"

                "They are spending the night in London, and won't be back until tomorrow afternoon, so I'll be fine."

                "You should probably go back soon anyway. It's getting late." She saw him glance worriedly at the clock. Again and again his eyes wandered to it.

                "I'm too dizzy to apperate home. You don't mind if I spend the night, do you?" She realized what this sounded like only after she said it. She knew that had she been more conscious, she would have been able to catch herself.

                "Um, I'm not so sure that's a good idea. I have some er, things to do, a little later, and it would probably be best if you weren't here." She began to realize what this was about.

                "Does having a girl sleeping in your room make you uncomfortable?" A sudden flash reflected in his eyes.

                "Yes, you sleeping here makes me uncomfortable." His lie was obvious. He reacted too quickly. He even repeated the question in the answer.

                "Harry, tell me what's going on."

                "I just told you that you make me uncomfortable…while sleeping."

                "That can't be it, because we wouldn't do anything." She sighed.

                "Is this about your attacks?" He looked at his shelves.

                "No…"

                "Harry! I have been there before. I was there less than a week ago. I've seen you go into them before and remained there when you awoke. And you're embarrassed about it? Why would it shame you. It isn't your fault that you're cursed with them. You just gave me a perfectly good reason to stay."

                "Hermione, please, just go. I don't want you here."

                "I'm not leaving. It is better this way."

                "Dammit! You make it sound like we're married!" he growled.

                "Would that be such a bad thing!?!?!?" She yelled back before she could stop herself. She immediately cursed alcohol under her breath. "Maybe if we were married you wouldn't be such an annoying and noble git and you would admit that you have problems that others like myself and Ron could help you with." She smiled inwardly at her cleverness, maintaining a glare. His confused face returned to it's sagging blotchy self. 

                "Why do you have to make my life more difficult?" he said in barely a whisper.

                "You have to learn that you can't take the easy way out." He laughed coldly.

                "When have I ever taken the easy road."

                "Never to my knowledge, but if you start now, then there's no turning back." He had to admit, she had a point. She could see it in his face. He was defeated, but still fighting (sense?). 

                "Can't you just come back tomorrow to check on me."

                "I already told you. I had too much wine to go home, so I need to stay here anyway. I promise you won't regret it. I promise Harry." Somehow she had managed to walk around the room to sit next to him on a sofa along one of the walls. She slowly wrapped her arms around him, and embraced him softly, before quickly letting go. "Don't worry, I'll take good care of you."

                "That's not what I'm worried about…"

                "I know, I know." He watched her expectantly, but he had lost this argument, and they waited in silence. Harry went back to his book, and Hermione continued to read the book on drinking. She figured it was interesting, but she couldn't focus. A sense of foreboding crept into the air. The time ticked by slowly, and at eleven, two quiet beeps announced the beginning of a new hour. Shortly afterwards, Harry stood and walked quickly to his desk chair, and secured his legs and arms. She got up and grabbed a towel as he frowned at her before closing his eyes. 

                It was horrible for her. Harry began to spasm, fighting against the braces that held his body to securely to his chair. His scar burst open, spraying the air with his blood before letting it trickle down his face. She stood, frozen next to him as she watched him suffer. She wanted to wipe the blood away, make him open his eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to move. Tears began to fall down her face, and the blood made its way down his neck, and into his shirt. She had seen blood before, but never like this. It flowed quickly and heavily, coating his face, seeping into his eyes, masking his nose, accenting his lips. She lost track of time until his body fell limp. She jumped at cleaning his face, trying vainly to wipe the crimson fluid away. He groaned, but she continued, letting the towel absorb as much blood as possible. She felt like throwing up, but Harry was more important. He opened his eyes and slowly released himself from the leather straps, watching her face as she used a dry part of the towel to get more of the blood. He put his hand on her own, and she looked down at him. He twitched the corners of his mouth and nodded. He knew what she had seen, and what she had done. He acknowledged her effort and care, and showed his appreciation for it, all in one look. 

                He stood and stumbled into the hallway, and then the bathroom. She heard the faucet go on for a few seconds, and then get twisted off. He returned, his eyes bloodshot, more so than usual, and his body bent, as one would imagine a man who carries more than his weight. He returned to his seat and pulled out his wand, to clean his clothing of the blood, before the stains became too much for his primitive cleaning charms. They spent most of the rest of the evening and early morning in silence. He went back to reading and answering questions, and she pretended to read while watching him. He knew she was watching, waiting for something, but he had nothing to say. He inconspicuously paged Dumbledore and informed him of the most recent developments, but he didn't speak aloud, just projecting the words mentally as not to attract the attention of Hermione. She kept forcing herself awake every time her eyelids became heavy, and marveled at his lack of sleepiness. Of course she knew he had gotten used to it, but this was uncanny. She noticed that the lights had gone out, all but the one behind her. She didn't realize they were so subtle, slowly dimming until darkness fell. 

                She once again looked up at him and saw him laying on his bed, asleep. Silently she approached him. His brow was furrowed and sweaty, his body shivering. He was in pain. It was too clearly written on his face. Sleep was painful. Now that he was asleep, she could take a good long look at his room. She searched through it, looking for something, anything to tell her Harry was just as carefree, just as happy, and just as alive. As she began to stumble in her exhaustion, she looked at the clock. 4:19. She looked around for a place to lay down. There was the floor and his bed, which, she couldn't help but notice, was not as small as it was. It was actually sort of big for Harry's small body. She wondered when he would begin to grow, get hairy, all that. He really was short. It seemed every time she saw him he was shorter. It was only too clear that she was miraculously still growing, but it was unnerving. Calmly she strode up to his bed, and looked down on his face. What she would give to take his pain away.

                She didn't want to take this the wrong way, so she slid onto the mattress at the very end, and tried to relax. As soon as she did so she felt herself begin to roll of. She tried again, and almost rolled off. Too tired to compete, she slid her body up against his, a few inches from the edge, and let her eyes close. She felt the quivering of the bed slow, and his breathing calm. He shifted his weight throwing his arm around her. She froze, not knowing what to do. She could toss his arm back like the friend that she was, or she could let it be, and just enjoy the night she knew she would never have again. She pressed her body against him, letting his body know she was there, but he didn't react, and slowly, and happily, she fell asleep.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Hermione woke up to a bright room. The light dazzled her eyes, and she hid her face while groaning. Slowly she looked the other way, and noticed it must be pretty late in the morning. She was still relatively tired, but as her eyes adjusted, she could begin to smell the fumes of bacon and eggs wafting in her direction. No, she could see the fumes wafting in her direction, and she glanced at her watch. 10:53. It WAS late. She followed the billowing steam with her blurry vision, until it rested on the stove that was used the night before. Next to the stove was a teen with black hair and dull green eyes swishing a wand continually, with a silly smirk on his face. She saw he was watching her, and his grin grew wider.

                "Come on, sleepyhead. The day started a while ago." She groaned aloud in response, and buried her head in the pillow. "Let's go."

                "Shut up and let me sleep."

                "Not a morning person are we. Fine sleep away." She smiled. A few more hours of peace until she would have to face him. He would inevitably be curious why she had ended up sleeping next to him, if she only knew it was more like on top of him. It made him very awkward when he got up, but he managed to slip out from under her unnoticed, and didn't plan to discuss it. The smell of the bacon was dragging her out of her dozing state. The eggs as well. She could hear them frying, and she wanted to eat. She was hungry, and noticed she had a slight headache. Harry was right about limiting her wine intake. She probably would have given herself to him, and there was no telling how he would have reacted. She cringed to think about it. But that was exactly her problem. She thought too much, which was also why she couldn't sleep at this very minute. Her brain was awake, and it refused to be eased into sleep. Accepting defeat was hard for her body, but she grumpily sat up.

                "What's for breakfast?" she yawned, as Harry chuckled. He was still sending the wondrous smell at her nose. "Do you have any idea how annoying that is?"

                "Yes, it wakes me up every morning. It isn't harsh and it works every time. I would think that you'd enjoy it."

                "I would if I actually wanted to get up." He was laughing at her, and she was too tired to care why, but she made her way over to the table and sat down. She looked at the glass in front of her, and smelled the contents. It smelled fruity, but she knew never to risk anything in the wizarding world. "What's this?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling a little bit.

                "Oh. That is milk, strawberries, blueberries, bananas, raspberries, apples, pears, grapes all mixed together into a thick puree. It's really quite good." She looked at him doubtfully. "You didn't think you'd like my cheesecake either." She wanted to reply to that but was too tired to think of anything. She took a sip and washed it around her mouth with her tongue. It wasn't bad actually. It was very thick, almost like a yogurt, but it was sweet and smooth. She could distinctly taste a bunch of the fruits he named, and she felt it coat her entire throat in its creaminess. 

                "So…"

                "Hm?"

                "How is it? Do you like it?"

                "It's sweet and creamy. I thought it would be more juicy, but it's alright."

                "That there is almost as good as a meal. It's got a ton of calories. A few glasses of it at each meal will get you fatter than a whale in three weeks. I only have on glass for breakfast. It helps me get started every day."

                "Some people just drink coffee."

                "I do that too, but I don't have a coffee maker and I'll be damned if I'm going to ask Petunia for a cup. All I got is my stove, my pantry, my refrigerator, my oven, and my blender."

                "I could see myself married to you." He froze and looked straight into her eyes. She looked away and felt the blood rush to her face. "No, nothing like that. I mean, you cook well, you appear to be organized, and neat, and you work to pay your own way. You're an independent person, and I like that trait in a man." She just called him a man, but really he was. He was mature beyond his years, wise, maybe a bit short, at a mere 5'1", but he was his own person. The sadness still lingered in his face, even when he smiled. He was so experienced in life, she felt he experienced every emotion possible. Except for love.

                "Yeah, and if I married you, I could be sure to get all my paperwork done on time." He chuckled as she blew a raspberry at him. He kept on cooking and she looked at his Animagus book, which was sitting open on the table. _13654: You are trapped in a foreign country and need to get home across an ocean without having magical assistance. Which animal would you prefer to be? _She scanned down to the circled answer. _BB. African Swallow; You desire the inconspicuousness of your small shape, and the freedom given to you by flight. Also the intense speed provides a fast journey home to your loved ones, as well as a means of escape if danger is encountered._ It really was like Harry to choose something like that. She preferred _CH. Blue Whale; You enjoy your security in size, and your grace as you flow swiftly and fluently through the seas home._ That or _G. Sperm Whale; As one of the largest predators in the animal kingdom, you feel the power and dominance as you patrol the seas. You dive deeply, holding your breath for hours as you scour the oceans bottom, fully enjoying you trip home. You know that you will not be challenged, for your size instills fear in almost all ocean life._ She read a few random ones, and saw the numerous answers, all the way from _A. _to _FB._ It was a lot to choose from, and she supposed he chose honestly.

                "Harry?"

                "Yes?"

                "Does this book…"he glanced over his shoulder at it and nodded "… tell you what you have a good chance of becoming as you move along?"

                "In a way, yes, but it is still vague."

                "What has it said about you so far?"

                "Um, well. There's a good chance I'll become a member of the large cat or dog family. I may become a creature of the air, because I seem to like the feeling of flying. It also has told me a few interesting things."

                "Like?"

                "I'm not really comfortable talking about it. It has to do with what Voldemort did to me, when he fell."

                "Go on."

                "I just said I wasn't comfortable."

                "Be a man. You're being silly. Don't you trust me?" She was becoming flustered.

                "With my life, but this……it's confusing to me. It sorta has to do with the Sorting Hat saying I would be great in Slytherin."

                "What do you mean?"

                "Well, do you know in rare cases, some people can have more than one Animagus forms." She smiled knowingly.

                "I like the way you said 'more than one' instead of just two, very subtle there." He managed a weak smile.

                "Anyway, the book told me that I have been, not contradicting myself on the questions, but not being entirely consistent, so I have a sixty percent chance of having two or more Animagus forms. Like a forty percent chance of having three or more. Thirty percent chance of four or more, and so on and so forth."

                "But...isn't that a good thing?"

                "I would just like to be normal for once. Who knows, I may just be a stag and a Basilisk. It could be terrible. After I find out these forms, I am going to have to learn how to become them. That reminds me, I got a letter from Sirius."

                "Oooh, what did he say?" 

                "It's weird, because my dad had two forms as well, though he only learned how to become a stag, he could have also become, become, a, a, a…"

                "A, a, a,…" she mocked good-naturedly.

                "A wolf. Similarly to Profes…Remus, but an Animagus Wolf, sane even without the potion. But he didn't think it was necessary, that it was too much work to become a second form. That was rare, because usually the forms are similar. Like two different breeds of dog, or two different types of bird. My dad never even told Moony or Wormtail about it." She smiled at him, as he placed a plate of eggs and bacon in front of her. She tasted it, but no suspicion was justified and she ate happily as he joined her at the table. 

                "So, how's your summer homework?" She said after swallowing.

                "I finished a while ago, I thought I told you that. I bet you finished yours already."

                "Not yet. The transfiguration is imposs…difficult, with the limited books that I have. I really should visit you at work, it would probably help a great deal."

                "Come by sometime, but you probably won't recognize me, I'll have brown hair and eyes and no scar to stare at. I like the look a tad bit better."

                "I think you look fine just the way you are." She shut her mouth and became very interested in her bacon. He hesitantly repeated the words in his head. He put it next to the way he woke, with her body mostly on top of him. The kiss she gave him at the Kings Cross Station at the end of the year. Everything became so clear. So scary. Sure, he liked her, he had a crush, and that was fine. But she couldn't like him. He would forbid it if it was possible. It made his life so much more complicated. If she had feelings for him, how was he to hide his own, how would Ron react? What would Skeeter say? I told you so, I knew it all along. Krum. Krum would call Harry a liar, and Hermione a slut. Ginny would despise Hermione, and Hermione would become a prime Voldemort target. It was too much to risk for a chance at an unlikely relationship. It wasn't worth it, but he had to know her feelings. He had to know how much she felt.

                "Hermione…" he said slowly, not wanting to have the words get jumbled in his frustration, his idiocy, and his anxiety, "is there something you want to tell me? To talk about?"

Too many Names!!! How can I thank all of you. There are just too many to mention. You know who you are, and I am so happy you reviewed. Anyone, just ask me, and I will read and review your stuff too. I am a firm believer in returning the favor. Thank you all, and review again, but you won't if you don' want to, I understand that, but I need to know where to take this. Your opinions are important to me, and my fic will be shaped as much as possible to contour to your wants. One thing that I won't change thought is the speed of the H/Hr relationship, because it would ruin the entire plot if they got together now. It will be a ways down the road. Tell what you want anyway, and I'll do my best to deliver on-time, unlike those bloody dominoes delivery people. 1 and a half hours late!!!! Oh sorry about the lateness, but I am currently studying for and taking multiple AP exams (college course exams in high school for you foreigners of the US) and I have been very busy. I hope to get the next chapter out in four days, but to be realistic, I'm going to say a week. Thank you all and happy reading. 


	13. Of Bikes and Fights

                She scowled at herself. She had spent the last ten days of her life staring at herself in the mirror. She wasn't in love with herself or anything like that, nor was she examining herself as if she was trying out a new diet. She was looking at herself with disappointment. Why the hell was she ever sorted in Gryffindor anyway? Just because she wasn't nervous putting on the hat means she's brave? She wasn't brave, not in the least. She fell in love with her best friend, and when he asked her about it, was she brave and strong and all the things a Gryffindor are? No. She was weak, scared, vulnerable, and she denied it. She supposed he believed her, because he looked generally thrilled about it. It would have crushed her, just like it did, but like every emotion he showed there was the infinite contradiction in his eyes; he was happy, his eyes sad. He was unmoved, his eyes angry. He was weak, his eyes strong. He was confident, his eyes full of doubt. It was an endless loop that could never be read. She had heard him muttering Cedric's name, Voldemort's, Sirius', Dumbledore's, all in his sleep. He was openly fighting the trances, but he was having no success. She doubted he even really tried his hardest to break out of them any longer. He was falling apart, and he would only let her watch. It was cruel torture, slow and deliberate. He knew he was hurting her, but he wouldn't try to stop it. Maybe mask it, but she still knew it was going on. 

                After she had denied liking him, he went back to discussing books and school, but she couldn't look him in the face. She was so full of shame and humiliation, that it threatened to pour out of her eyes at any moment. Her recovery was slow, but she was beginning to accept, that if he really did like her, as small a chance as it was, she just ruined any chance she had with him.

                Hermione loved her parents. They always came in when she needed someone, and left when she needed time alone. They would only allow themselves a taste of "cavity central", as her father cautiously termed it. Only their tastes ended up finishing the cake before Hermione got any. She didn't mind. It gave her something to laugh at, and leverage if she ever wanted something from her parents, but that was rare. It was suddenly very odd for her parents to become addicted to sweets. 

Rick had asked if she fought with Harry, and she couldn't really explain it. She said "there was a misunderstanding, and it created an awkward situation for awhile." He father, as wonderful as he was, knew to accept it, and help her get back on her emotions. So here she sat, staring into the mirror once again, tearing her mind apart, looking for anything to tell her who she was, who she is, and how Harry was involved. Her thoughts today, though, were just to be interrupted.

                "HERMIONE!?!?!?!?" Yelled a male voice from downstairs. Sensing danger, she grabbed her wand and ran to the artifacts room. Ronald Weasley's head, with flaming red hair was sitting in her fireplace. He smiled at her, and she managed a grin. He saw it was strained, but he would never understand people's emotions. "Wow, you look wonderful." A blatant lie. She was loosing sleep in her misery, not nearly as much as Harry was, but she was still loosing sleep.

                "What is it Ron?" she said concern and boredom creating a hollow voice.

                "You simply must come over, right now. We just got mully-collision with plugs and you have to see it!" She groaned quietly, not wanting her dislike of the idea to reach Ron's thick skull.

                "I'm not so sure…"

                "Go on dear. It'll be good for you to get out of the house. You've been locked in your room for days." Hermione took this opportunity to glare at her mother, but couldn't refuse saying she had better things to do. What was a mully-collision anyway? She turned back to Ron, he unease apparent on her face.

                "I'll be there in a few minutes Ron. Don't wait up for me." She finished grumbling, and went to collect some floo-powder. As she stepped through the flames, she couldn't help wondering what Harry was doing.

                She landed in the living room of the Burrow, the Weasley's home. Ron immediately hugged her. It was unusual for him to show any kind of intimate emotion, even when he was feeling it. The rest of the Weasleys didn't even see her come in. They were surrounding something in the corner of the room, jumping up and down and yelling back and forth. She gave Ron a quizzical look.

                "What is that?" She pointed blindly into the crowd.

                "Our brand new mully-collision."

                "What?"

                "Mully-collision. Every muggle has one." Ron led her into the swarm of Weasleys, until she squirmed to the middle of the mob and turned to slap Ron on the back of the head, a bit harder than she intended.

                "You raving moron. It's a television." He rubbed his head, annoyed by the lump forming.

                "That's what I said, isn't it?" She wanted to slap him again, but he brain told her otherwise. "We can't figure it out. Mum told me to ask you to help." Hermione saw that the chatter had stopped, and many eyes rested on her. 

                "Fine." She groaned. There were countless pats on the back as most of the family departed, but Ron and Mr. Weasley stayed behind. Mr. Weasley was examining the controller, and they all stepped back looking a the box which showed only a white and black picture.

                "This is what the muggles spend hours looking at?" Ron stated dumbly unaware of it's true purpose. She sighed and examined the picture. Television were not difficult at all. It was obviously plugged it if it was on, but the antennae wasn't attached. She sighed and picked it up. "Is that a muggle wand?" She was too tired to explain.

                "Yes Ron, a muggle wand, but it doesn't do magic." He was visually confused by this, but supposed she would get into it later. Mr. Weasley watched everything she did closely. She put the antennae in it's little socket, and began to screw it in, when finally, Ron screamed. Not a loud girly scream, but a pure shock scream.

                "It's, it's alive!!!" Hermione and Mr. Weasley stepped back and looked at the screen. The picture was perfect, but there was no sound. The rest of the family came rushing in, and stood back, afraid of what would happen if they got too close. She walked over to Mr. Weasley, and made him hold the controller still.

                "These two buttons are the volume control. They make it louder and quieter. You press this one until it is loud enough, and this one to make it quieter. Try it." Mr. Weasley pressed and held one of the buttons. The family squealed as the number 0 popped up on the screen, and increased rapidly as the sound reflected it. He stopped, but too late. The voice of the newscaster was rattling the house. He pressed and held the other button, and the sound got significantly quieter. He turned to face his family, his happiness evident.

                "It works." The family cheered, and they all claimed seats on the sofas and armchairs, fighting for a good view. It was then that Hermione noticed other then the four Weasleys still attending Hogwarts, and Molly and Arthur, Percy and Charlie were also there. All of them had excitement written on their face. She tuned into the tele, following their examples and watched, uninterestedly.

                _Breaking news this afternoon as a mad motorcyclist has been tearing through London at deadly speeds. More on that story, with Kyle Flanagan. Kyle?_

_                Thank you Gerald. We are currently in our channel four whirlybird approaching southern London. From the police reports we have gathered, a young man, assumed to be in his later teens or early twenties, was initially pursued for not having the correct identification on his American made  motorcycle. The police attempted to pull him over, and he tried to run from their grasps. He has done incredible things so far, proving his skill on such contraptions. The list is very long, including running two police car blockades, flying off of an overpass onto the street below and nearly crashing into countless people and buildings. As the wild goose chase rages through the city, many wonder who is this brute and why is he taking such desperate measures to avoid a simple violation. With every feat he has accomplished in avoiding being caught, he may be charged with up to twenty years and five thousand pounds in penalties. Here we are, and he should be…_

_THERE, on Streatham High Road. We have a visual. Wow. He does move fast!!! Look at that. He barely misses hitting that blue sedan. It looks like they may get him, as he approaches he busy intersection. One car in front of him, but countless crossing. There is no way he can safely weave through…he's slowing down, take a look at that yellow dragon on his jacket, is that a new gang? We'll have to look into that later. _

_                Yes, here come the police in close pursuit, I believe his shenanigans have come to an end, he seems to be looking for something. THERE HE GOES. WHAT A BLOODY LUNATIC! HE'S GOING TO GET HIMSELF KILLED (the figure on the television raced at the two cars stopped at the intersection at extreme speeds) OH BUGGER!!! (The motorcyclist held out what looked like a small wedge shaped block, similar to the ones used to stop cars from rolling away. The man dropped it directly in front of his motorbike and flew up into the air at a sharp incline} MY LORD!!! GERALD! DID YOU BLOODY SEE THAT? THAT WAS ABSURD! HE JUST FLEW OVER A CAR AND FOUR BLOODY LANES OF TRAFFIC! HE'S MAD, BLIMEY AND I LOVE IT! WHO IS THIS GUY?(he landed with the sound of banging metal on the other side of the intersection.)_

_                Yes, Kyle, we saw that, stupid really, he could have gotten himself…_

_                LOOK, FOLKS, THE POLICE ARE STUCK ON THE OTHER SIDE. WHAT AN INTELLIGENT MOVE (Hermione snorted at this) WE ARE NOW FOLLOWING HIM FROM THE AIR. THE CLEVER BUGGER IS NOW IN THE OPEN, WITH NO POLICE…AH HA, THE POLICE WHIRLYBIRD HAS ARRIVED, HE'LL HAVE A HELL OF A TIME GETTING AWAY NOW…_

_                Kyle, word has just come in from administration, you are reminded that you are on live television, watch your tongue._

_                Absolutely amazing. I've never seen anything like it in twelve years in this bird. The police are keeping close tabs, as we follow down this highway at nearly two hundred kilometers an hour. There is no way he can outrun the helicopter, he is as good as caught, we'll take this opportunity to try to get a closer shot of his face. (The camera zoomed in on the jacket, and his black hair reminded her vaguely of Harry's, but this guy had a bit of facial hair, and would not benefit the camera with his face.)_

"Wait!!!" screamed Ron "I know that road, I flew over it when I got lost on a broomstick near the paddock. They're really close."

                "Excellent!" chorused Fred and George, loving the muggle troublemaker. 

                _(The camera stayed closely fixated on the motorcyclist, who was lazily being pursued by the police helicopter. The road had become clear of all traffic except for the occasional freaked out driver, scared by the speeding bike and following helicopters. The hand of the rider pulled a small lever, and a red button labeled N2O. Hermione recognized it as Nitrous Oxide, or laughing gas. Her parents used it as an anesthetic. She couldn't figure out why it was on this guy's motorcycle. Maybe she would aske Harry about it another time. It would give them something to talk about. The figure waved to the camera before firmly pushing the button. The effects were instantaneous. The rear wheel began spinning wildly, propelling the bike forward with incredible power. Hermione figured it must have been a joke. Laughing gas, he was laughing at his pursuers. So simple, she grinned at herself. Being smart was fun sometimes. Everyone in the room watched sadly as the motorcycle pulled out of sight before the helicopter could catch up) CAN YOU BELIEVE IT. HE JUST OUTRAN A WHIRLYBIRD. WHAT WAS THAT?_

The family went back to chatting over the incident, as the camera went back to the newsroom and continued on other things. Ron came next to her on the floor grinning like an idiot. 

                "Is it always like that? It is always so much fun?" She smiled at him. It really was a good first experience. She even found it entertaining, and she really didn't like television so much.

                "Unfortunately no, it is rarely like that, but you were lucky to see it. It was pretty amazing and pretty stupid at the same time." Ron was still looking at the box, wanting to see more. They were showing some replays of the man's stunts, as the police continued to search for the person. _Knock, knock._ Someone was at the door. Ron got up and bolted to get it, Hermione, not having anything better to do followed, she stopped in the doorframe of the living room, looking back into the room, at the smiling and happy family. She heard Ron open the door.

                "Well I'll be buggered. Harry, what are you doing here?" She was not expecting this, and froze. She wasn't up to facing him down. She had lied to him, let him down, let Gryffindor down, and she couldn't face him yet.

                "Hey, ah, everything's ok, but I'm being followed, do you mind if I stay here a bit, catch my breath?"

                "Sure, sure. HEY EVERYBODY HARRY'S HERE!!!" A parade of Weasleys took their turn greeting Harry, and escorting him into the hall. Finally, the crowd dissipated, and he saw Hermione standing and looking at him.

                "Don't I get a hello?" He said sulkily, his acting was getting better. She smiled at his antics and approached him, examining him for the first time since he arrived. She froze, and turned very white. On instinct, Harry whipped out his wand and looked at the door, which was closed and secure, no one was there. He glanced back to her. "What's wrong?"

                "Where (breath) did you (breath) get that jacket?" He looked at her curiously, and spun around like he was on a runway.

                "You don't like it? I bought the leather jacket, and put the dragon on myself. I thought it looked nice." She couldn't stop herself. By this time all the Weasleys were standing nearby, curious at the events. They all saw Hermione slap Harry, before banging her fists on his chest. They all looked on in shock. Harry got a red mark on his cheek for the slap, and let her bang his chest. It didn't hurt, and he shot a questioning look to Ron who shrugged, as he tried to hold back a grin. Hermione beating up Harry was funny stuff. Harry finally caught her wrists, and stepped back from her, looking into her teary eyes.

                "What's wrong?" He asked softly, but everyone heard in the silence. She was moving her jaw looking for the right words, to fit her anger. "What is it?" He asked again.

                "The Weasley's just got a tele." He smiled faintly, and looked over at them. They were just as puzzled as he was.

                "Oh. That's great!" He said with artificial enthusiasm. He looked back at her and she continued.

                "We saw your jacket." He grinned again.

                "Oh?" She looked at him with pure frustration. His face went white in realization. "Oh. Oh, oh. That wasn't me, it was someone else, I, mine isn't even ready yet, and my motorcycle can't do that, and you heard them, he was like twenty. I'm much younger than that and, and…" she wasn't buying it, and he saw the glitch in his plan to get away. He wasn't expecting anyone he knew to know it was him. "You're not going to tell Sirius are you? You can kill me all you want, just don't tell Sirius, please?"

                "Sirius? Sirius Black? The one who…" began Percy.

                "He's innocent! It was Pettigrew who was the secret keeper" roared Ron. He was angry with Fudge's accusations of Sirius.

                "What are you talking about?" Percy asked, eager to be the one to capture Sirius. Maybe, get a promotion.

                "I'll explain it all to you later, Percy. You won't tell him though, will you Hermione?"

                "No." She spat with venom. He wasn't going to get off easily this time. He hugged her warmly, and she felt her emotional roller coaster begin to become unsteady.

                "Thank you, you're wonderful." He pulled away, with an unsure smile. "Mr. Weasley, do you mind if I use your garage for a little while?"

                "No, no Harry. Go on, you can use it. I want to get more familiar with the bully-vision, anyways. You can use anything I have in there." 

                "Thank you sir." Harry said, and walked out of the house slowly, amidst stares from the Weasley clan. As soon as he left, pandemonium broke loose. Fred, George, Percy and Charlie began demanding to know where Sirius was, and why they (Ron, Hermione and Harry} were associating with him. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley and Ron all demanded to know about the motorcycle, and if it was really Harry on it. For ten minutes the loud bantering went on.

                "QUIET!!!" a shrill voice screamed over the noise. Silence immediately fell. "Ron, tell everyone everything about Sirius. I need to talk to Harry." She turned and stormed out of the house, and straight to the garage. She saw the faded white shingles and the door on red rusty hinges. She threw the door open and looked around. Harry had a motorcycle in front of him, and he was tinkering with some of the pieces. His jacket was cast messily on a nearby chair, and Harry didn't look up at her.

                "Look, Hermione, I'm sorry I did that, I truly am. But if I was caught it would have been hell. I would have been kicked out of the Dursley's and probably prosecuted. It was necessary."

                "So killing yourself is justifiable to avoid a bloody ticket?" She never cursed. Never ever.

                "I wasn't going to kill myself."

                "Oh no! The great Harry Potter is invincible. Just because you can duel the dark lord, doesn't mean a bleeding car won't kill you instead. Do you have any idea how stupid that was? What would you have done if something happened to you? What would I have done. Your so bloody selfish. Don't you care that people care about you. That they look up to you. And you throw your life away, wanting everyone to pity you…"

                "SHUT UP!!! Don't you ever get tired of your own voice. 'Do you have any idea how stupid that was'" he mocked in a high pitched voice. "I don't care about anyone who looks up to me. If they need me to look up to, then they are sad excuses for wizards. It would be better for everyone if no one cared about me. You think I want your pity. Go and put it somewhere else. Go and pity Voldemort, he'd get a kick out of it. Just leave me the fuck alone. I don't need your sympathy. I don't want you fussing over me. Maybe if I wrote it in a book you would understand. FUCK OFF!" He grabbed his bike, which had miraculously changed colors, and strode out to the door, pulling the piece of machinery with him. 

                "No, no, no. Harry I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. Harry, no. Don't go. Please. I take it all back. Don't go. I didn't mean it. Please! Harry, PLEASE!" She yelled as he started the engine. It roared to life, he turned back to her, his face contorted in bitter resolve.

                "Forget everything you ever thought you knew about me." He gunned the engine, and in a cloud of smoke and dust, he disappeared. 

                Something in her snapped. Weeks of repressed emotions flooded her eyes, and the salty warmth streamed down her face. She fell onto her bum, and pulled her knees up to her chin. She watched him go, and hid her face. Why couldn't she just hold down her anger? Why couldn't she just let him be? Why did she have to make him hate her? Why? The word echoed in her head, continuously tearing at her. She couldn't understand it. He had just shouted at her. He was never one to shout at her. Even when he was furious, he never used that language. She was too busy crying to notice Ginny and Ron come outside looking for her. It didn't take very long.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Harry wiped away the tears as he sped away. They blurred his vision, causing him to swerve dangerously at the high speeds. He didn't know what made him do it, but her nosiness was making him go mad. She was driving him, wild, trying to make himself seem presentable to her, to be accepted by her, to fit her high expectations for him. He hated everyone's expectations of him, and he took it out on her. She just…just had such an emotional grasp on him, it was hard for him to contain his feelings. He wanted to tell her everything, to get it over with, but she would go to books for answers. He was sure he' been through every book in the world, and they didn't help. She would, of course never give up looking in books. He didn't need a book. He needed someone to listen. 

                Sure, people had said they would give him their ears, but only because it was the polite thing to do. Dumbledore was a great man, in every aspect, but he wasn't the type to get emotional with. He was a shoulder to cry on, but Harry couldn't see himself discussing the inner conflict he had inside. It was like being stuck between a fjord and the sea, being thrown from one to the other, slowly accumulating emotional scars that were restricting his thoughts and sanity. Ron was never one to get emotional with, and he was uncomfortable around Hermione. She said she didn't like him that way, and he believed her, but she was hiding something. He needed a father. All this time without parents he was fine. He could don anything he really wanted or needed, but now, he only needed someone to talk to. He needed a father. Alas, the cards of life dealt to him left that out, so what was he to do? He could get a shrink, but they just take your money and have you spend hours pouring your mind out. He needed interaction. Someone who had experience, and was understanding. Someone who would save him, rather than expect him to save the world. 

                When it came down to it, was the world worth saving. The countless tears of the dead from resisting, both muggle and magical. Why couldn't they just hand the world to Voldemort, on the promise that he would not kill everyone, of torture them. Why did they have to fight at all. There really was not a good or evil. The good did evil things, and the evil did good. The was no in the middle. But there should be. If a morally perfect person kills someone and runs away, are they good or evil? Both. The world was only giving two shades of the spectrum, and it was frustrating. Why did Harry have to be good? Why did he have to be perfect? The fucking role model of the world? Why was he selected for something he didn't want. What if he wanted to be gray? What was wrong with being both good and evil, or neither? Why couldn't he be like the average person, a little bit of each? Why the fuck was everything black and white? What moron…

                **_BEEEEEP_** "HEY ASSHOLE, WATCH WHERE IN BLOODY HELL YOUR GOING!!!" Harry woke from his trance and thought-like state and righted his bike, which had been shifting into the right side of the street, into oncoming traffic. He waved in apology to the guy in his small Japanese car. Or was it Korean? Harry really didn't care. He didn't car about much anymore. In the end, what was the effort worth? All the struggling, all the work. And where did it take you? It was pointless and redundant. He sighed and kept going. It was a short way longer to Surrey, and he wanted to get home. Put a barrier on his floo. He knew that Hermione would come through that way, and he wanted her to hate him. Not that he really wanted it, but it would be best for everyone, if he had no friends. He couldn't confide in them anyway. Honestly, he knew he had no friends. Hermione was just a know-it-all bookworm who needed people around her to correct and tell her that she's smart, and Ron didn't even trust Harry. That was more evident than bloody on the knife. Ron just clung to Harry to get a piece of the glory. Maybe if Harry wasn't there he would get the glory. Harry wouldn't be there to shine over him, make him look bad. Everyone would just be able to get on with their lives, and they would be happier because of it. He was a mistake, he probably shouldn't have been born, or maybe he should have been aborted. Saved from the pain. He should have died long ago, so what was he waiting for? It was going to happen sooner or later. Why did he run from Voldemort in the graveyard? He wasn't scared. He was in pain and tired, sop he ran. He really was a coward. So he brought Cedric's body back. Some accomplishment. He should have stayed, shot a couple good hexes, and died. No one would be the worse. He would be dead, happy with his parents, if there was a god, and he couldn't be blamed by everyone for Cedric's death. He knew everyone thought that. Ron even thought that. It wasn't hard to see. The only reason they didn't say it were either because Dumbledore said not to, or because they feared Harry would killed them too. Maybe he would. Maybe he should. It was too difficult to be the perfect person. How Dumbledore did it he didn't know, and again he didn't care. It was bound to require effort, and for what? He would die anyway. Voldemort tried so many times before, that he was going to get it right ultimately. There was no telling when, but it had to be soon. Actually it would be great if it was soon. Get him the free ride into heaven, if there was one. And if there wasn't…………………too bad. He would deal with it then. Procrastinate, it was the way everyone else lived. 

                He turned the corner onto Privet Drive and pulled into the driveway. He looked around, checked to see that no one was looking, and stepped off. He turned off the motor, and shrunk the bike to the size of a small toy car. He slid it into his pocket, and turned to go up the walkway to the front door. He heard the soft clink of wood on asphalt, and turned quickly, but no one was nearby, muggle or otherwise he turned back to the house slowly, anger, frustration and rage building up inside of him, going on a whim, he turned again sharply while whipping his wand into his hand.

                "**_STUPEFY_**" He screamed. Instead of a beam of light, as the usual for such a charm, his wand shook violently for a second, and became hot. A cloud formed quickly at the tip, becoming the size of a small hippopotamus, before it flew quickly, however slower than usual, at the shrubs on the other side of the driveway. The cloud split into two and disappeared, followed by two dull thuds on the driveway. There was a rattling inside the house, and Uncle Vernon threw open the door. He saw Harry with his wand drawn, pointed at his shrubs.

                "What just happened?" Harry didn't answer him. He just walked to the asphalt tapping his feet tentatively before he placed them. When he was halfway to the shrubs, he kicked something. His Uncle had exited the house and was watching with interest. Harry got on his knees, and felt what he was looking for. A soft light cloth. He felt the body underneath it, and trailed his hand up to the invisible head. With a quick jerk the cloth came off revealing a body wearing plain black robes, with no identification. Harry wanted very much to get rid of this person, but decided to let them explain themselves first. Might get some information. 

                "OH BLOODY HELL! YOU KILLED HIM!" Harry turned to see a white faced uncle.

                "No, I just rendered him unconscious. He'll be fine, he's even breathing." His uncle approached the body slowly, but stumbled over an unseen obstacle. Harry jumped up, leaving the person lying on the driveway to where his uncle had walked, and found another body hidden under what he guessed to be another invisibility cloak. He grabbed near the head and whipped it off. He was able to easily recognized this face. Alastor Moody, along with another man were laying in his driveway. Harry heard feet running in their direction. He turned to his uncle and looked at him with resolve.

                "Don't move, and don't make a noise, you'll be invisible a while." Harry took one of the cloaks and put it on his uncle, before doing the same to himself. In no less than five seconds, two wizards with wands drawn were standing on the driveway and looked around. They saw the two people on the driveway and the one who seemed to be the authority figure grabbed the other's arm. 

                "Look, be very quiet, and make sure Harry's alright, I'll check on these two." The second man walked slowly, in a crouched position directly towards Harry, and in turn, the front door. His wand vulnerably held in front of him. This paved the way for opportunity. Harry, in one fluid movement, use his left hand to take off his cloak, while grabbing the wand out of the hand of the wizard. He dove in front of the man while firing "_Stupefy_" at the wizard who was ready to wake Moody. The man slumped on top of him and Harry held his wand at the second wizard, who had tripped on Harry and was struggling with his robe to get up. Harry murmured another "_Stupefy_" and he stopped struggling with the garment. Harry collected all of their wands and looked around and saw Moody's magical eye glancing around unsurely. 

                "_Mobilicorpus_" Harry muttered while swinging his wand towards Moody, and he said it again while flicking his left arm with one of the wands he'd taken from one of the other people. Moody and another hovered a little bit in the air, inches from the ground. "Uncle Vernon, can you help me get these two…" he nodded at the two left on the ground "into the house." Uncle Vernon quickly grabbed an arm each, and pulled the two men into the house, just as Harry came down the stairs. "I can take them from here."

                "Y-You're not going to…kill them are you?"

                "No, god no. I just need to ask them a few painless questions, before I send them home. Thanks for helping me get them in, oh, and can I have the ah, cloak back?" Vernon looked at himself in the mirror and gasped. He wasn't there. He took the cloak off and gasped as he appeared. 

                "Bloody amazing." He mumbled as he reluctantly handed it back to Harry. Harry accepted it, and went back to his room where he closed the door. The four figures were all chained to their own chairs. Harry smiled as he saw Moody's eye follow him. Harry went about his business, neatening up, eating and reading for half an hour, before waking them up. He saw the shock on their faces, and a smile on Moody's. 

                "Damn Potter, gave us all quite a scare. Thought yeh would forget to watch yer back. Your were able to take down four highly trained aurors, how's it feel?"

                "It was nothing special, you guys are easy."

                "Wasn't expecting ya to be so quick with yer piece. Coulda poked out an eye with that. You better go see Olivander, git yer wand checked."

                "Why's that?"

                "You just went through a magical zenith, I'd assume."

                "So?"

                "You should pay more attention in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potter. If that happened against Voldemort (the three other aurors cringed) you'd be dead. What happened is you put too much magic into yer wand, and it coulda burned up, exploded, and what not, but you kept control and finished the spell. Hell of a powerful one too. Think my head is gunna ache for weeks. Very well done though, you were on the ball, expecting anything, and I assume were tied up because yeh want to punish us for watching over ya, before we get to go."

                "In a way. Think about it as an inquisition. I ask questions, you give answers, or you don't eat."

                "Whatta ya want to know?"

                "Nuh uhhh. I got a fresh supply of Veritaserum, and were going to play a little game of truth or dare. Just no dares are allowed."

                "Potter, this is breaking countless magical laws. I'd hate to get you in shit with the ministry." Harry laughed, a hollow cruel laugh.

                "Good one, I have more shit with the Ministry than they like to admit. Fudge wants me silenced. Have you heard, petitioning to have me sent to St. Mungos Insane Ward. You can't trace my Veritaserum anyway."

                "Yes I can, I can trace all important potions." Growled Moody, loosing his patience with Harry. Harry leaned in so his mouth was right near Moody's ear.

                "Not when you don't have the location of production on your places to search." Moody knew what this meant, Harry was making his own. His eye searched the room tirelessly. His wardrobe and closet only had clothes, his trunk had his school things, everything was in perfect shape. Something was wrong. 

                "Harry, if you mess it up, it will poison us. Then you'll have to face murder charges."

                "It's fine, I assure you. It is tested and maybe a little strong, but very effective. It'll be fun. We'll start with you here." Harry approached the one who seemed to be on the bottom of the pecking order. He was a young man, who looked to be in his early twenties. He had blond hair that stuck straight up, and warm gray eyes. 

                "I-I-I won't drink it." He said, much less resolutely then he meant. 

                "Oh, you won't will you?" Harry had the potion bottle in his hand, so the man only shook his head no. "Too bad." A knife appeared in Harry's hand, and it was driver into the man's upper arm, as the man opened his mouth to scream, Harry let a few drops into the man's mouth, and the knife disappeared, along with the wizard's pain. "First question, why are you here?"

Thank you Everybody. I have a few things that require your attention. I have a few good ideas for other fan fiction stories, and I want to write them. The only question I have is, would you like me to start on another story, and continue this one, or just work on this one. It is all up to you guys, if you decide to tell me. 

I want some stories to review. If you wrote a story, just mention it and I'll read and review it. Don't be shy. I'd love to do it.

Harry on motorcycle bit up there^, probably very unrealistic, but hey, I was bored and needed some excitement. I will try to stay real though. 

I love you all! Keep reviewing. I was a little disappointed in the 7 reviews I got for chapter 13, but considering what I did on 12, I suppose I deserved it. Review if you like, I hope you will. Thanks Everyone. Happy reading.


	14. Broken People

                "He's never going to come back." She bawled. She couldn't help but cry hysterically. The Weasleys were gathered around her, wondering why Harry had left so soon. When Hermione was brought in, they weren't expecting her to be this unstable. 

                "Sure he is, sweetheart. He just needs some time alone." Cooed Mrs. Weasley.

                "He-he-he told me, to-to fuck off." She let out a particularly loud sob. Even Fred and George looked unusually grave.

                "He's going through a hard time dear. Don't worry about it." There was silence, minus the slow sobbing of Hermione for a few seconds.

                "But, I love him." Ginny gasped loudly, Mrs. Weasley's eyes became large in surprise. Fred and George grinned at each other. Ron turned very red and began to shake, as Mr. Weasley belched softly. The silence was deafening. 

                Mrs. Weasley didn't know what to do. Just at the beginning of the summer, her own daughter came home, openly pining for Harry. She talked about it with her, about Ginny's crush. Ginny claimed it was so much more, she claimed it was love. At first, Molly Weasley chuckle it off, but the emotions her daughter felt were very clear. Now, she had talked about falling in love, with Ginny, so what was she to do with Hermione. She always felt Hermione was a match for Harry, but couldn't hide the fact that she dearly wanted Ginny to end up wit Harry, and possibly Ron with Hermione.

                "Now, now, you're too young to be falling in love…"

                "But I do!" Hermione wailed. It was the volume that closed all discussion of the topic.

                "Well, does he feel the same way about you?"

                "He doesn't feel anything for anybody anymore." She hid her face in the pillow on the sofa and sobbed. Mrs. Weasley hadn't noticed the entire family enter the living room behind her, and glared at them to leave Hermione in peace. They left slowly, not wanting to miss the juicy details. Ron felt the most dejected of them all. He wanted Hermione so badly, he'd give up every knut he had, to be with her, and she falls for Perfect Potter. Life was cruel. He watched as his mother slowly helped Hermione up to Ginny's room. This was going to take a bunch of healing.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                "What am I supposed to do now?" Harry said to Alastor Moody, who was restrained, sitting in a chair next to Harry. Across the room, three Aurors were chained to the wall and glaring at each other with hatred.

                "It's yer call Harry, I warned yeh against it, but no, yeh had to know every littl' detail. Yeh had to question 'em when they were all in the room. Secrets were revealed. Marriages destroyed. Lives ruined. Yer at fault. And yeh ask me what yer supposed to do?" He growled. He missed dinner, and it was getting late. See if he would help this fifteen year old snot on a power trip.

                "It's not my fault the young one was fucking the other's wife. Hmmm. Memory charm?" Harry stated.

                "Yeh saw de emotion turned up. Yeh can't block these strong feelin's with a memory charm, without causin' permanent damage."

                "Right. But I have an Antimemorious Cocktail, freshly brewed. I was going to sell it in China for fifty galleons, but… hey, it could work."

                "Yer under aged t' be able t' buy a potion like that."

                "I didn't buy it."

                "Where did – never mind. Do whatcha like. Yeh sure the potion is safe? Yeh gunna face the shit if it ain't."

                "Shit is one thing I can deal with. I'd say three hours worth of the potion should work properly. I just have to find a way to get them all to drink it. Good thing I got myself a Quick Quill notes, otherwise I would have lost have of everything said. Then…"

                "Then?" 

                "I get to put you on the Veritaserum, that way we can all have a good look into your thoughts."

                "C'mon Potter, yeh know enough already. Don't do this."

                "I'm not so sure. You're the real catch I have here. 'twould be a waste to not search your mind at least a little while. Anyway, we can discuss it later. I have lives to fix."

                "They wouldn't a needed fixing if yeh hadn't have broken 'em."

                "Yeah, yeah. Tell me about it." Harry removed the silencing charm on his side of the room and approached the three figures. They all scowled at him with contorted faces. "Well, here's what's going on. My Polyjuice potion should be wearing off soon. This virtual test was not up to par with your other work. You were not prepared to be discovered, but Alastor made it so you were, and you reacted poorly, even with the delayed release of the spell. When you two arrived at the scene, and saw both of your mates vulnerable on the ground, you did nothing to search for the one responsible for their defeat, making yourself too vulnerable, and easily overcome. You all allowed powerful potions into your system, which could have compromised the future of the Ministry, and you allowed personal matters get in the way of your primary mission, getting away safely. The real Harry Potter would not have done this to you, at least I don't think he would have. I just met him the one time to get some hair for the potion. His room isn't this big either. But you guys were not prepared, and I am disappointed with you. That will have to go into my report, but anyway. This virtual simulator has come to an end, and it is time to wake up in the real world and go home, or kill each other over his wife. Do what you want, but you have to drink this to wake up." He unclasped their chains and handed them each a bathroom cup with a gulp of brownish tar smelling potion. "It is a variety of the awakening potions, as you should know from it's color and smell. I'll see you on the other side. Next time I expect better results." Two of them drank it immediately, but the first one that Harry put on the serum, watched in silence. When he saw the other two did not keel over and die, he too drank his. Harry immediately put the clasps back on their wrists, and went over to Moody.

                "How was that." Moody was shaking his head, smiling dejectedly.

                "Yer either brilliant or incredible stupid, or they're daft. I think it may be a combination of the three. A simple, obvious plan, perfectly executed. They really do need more training."

                "Yeah well, I've decided not to use Veritaserum on you, but, I am going to be monitoring your brainwaves, to see if your lying or not."

                "How're yeh gunna do that?"

                "I have a little machine I got from Magical Muggle Machinery Magazine. It measures them for me." Moody let a low moan rise through his chest. More toys of Potters were going to be used, this time on him. Potter went into his closet, and came out carrying what looked like an American Football helmet with small circuits all around it. Harry strapped in on, and tightened the strap on the chin.

                "This is usually used to check for brain activity to see if someone is alive, but I have modified it to actually show me how much activity is going on. Generally honest answers use less activity than lies, so it shouldn't be hard, but I haven't had anyone to test it on. Here, chew this." Harry held out what looked like a stick of gum in front of  Moody's face.

                "What is it?" Moody grumbled, careful not to let his mouth open too far.

                "Gum, a muggle kind of candy that you chew, but don't swallow."

                "I know what the hell it is, but what have yeh done to it?"

                "Nothing, I need you to do a consistent action for a few minutes to calibrate the machine. Open up, I need you to take this. It's this or Veritaserum." Moody looked at Harry doubtfully, measuring his chances of survival. Unknown gum, or Veritaserum. Tough choice. 

                "Fuck it. Gimme the gum." Harry put it in Moody's mouth, and Moody began chewing, expecting some sort of potion to take effect, but none did. The gum was one of the mint flavors, kind of strong to, but otherwise it was untainted. Harry began pressing the buttons on the helmet, while occasionally telling Moody to chew, or to stop chewing. Harry began asking very off topic questions; nothing at all about the Ministry, or Voldemort. The questions were out of the ordinary, and very lighthearted. Along the lines of "How many children's books have you read in the last three years." Moody answered all of the questions honestly, because there was no reason not to. Finally, Harry looked him in the eye. Moody could visualize the gears running quickly behind Harry's eyes. He was contemplating something.

                "Alastor, I am going to ask you your age again. You told me you were eighty six. I want you to tell me that you are fifty six. How old are you?" Moody's mind sent the words 'fifty six' to his mouth, but he heard himself say eighty six. His eyes went to Harry, who jumped up, with a grin bigger than London on his face.

                "Excellent! It works perfectly. I'm going to explain it to you now. The monitor really listens for lies, so I know you were lying, but the potion allows you to maintain your conscious mind while under questioning but you can't lie, and you don't know that your being controlled by the potion I put in the gum, so it never comes to mind that you may be under the potion until there is a lie you really want to keep and it come out the wrong way!" He panted, catching his breath. Slowly, the shimmer from his eyes left, and the dark circles returned, as distinctive as before. "Well, it'll wear off soon. I'm going to le you all go now. Thanks for sticking around. I have some bread and meat in the refrigerator if you want a snack before you go." Harry said with a dangerous glint in his eye.

                "No! No Potter. We're fine." Moody said as the manacles fell of his wrist as well as the manacles on the other three Aurors. Harry handed them back their wands.

                "Oh, guys, I know you've been watching over me for the last two weeks, sitting on the sofa you have on the front lawn. Why don't you guys stop in next time." He got four questioning looks. "I haven't mastered the Optical Corrective Potion to allow me to see through your cloaks and shrouds for more than two minutes. I'm confident I'll get it soon, though. Have a nice trip home." He handed Moody and his partner back their invisibility cloaks, and ushered them to the door to his room. At the door, Moody stopped and turned to Harry.

                "When school starts, I'll be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. You have one hundred and fifty points for being vigilant, and I'll talk to Snape about giving you points for some of the potions you created." Moody went down the stairs, as Harry called after him.

                "Don't bother with Snape, he'll just get me in more trouble." He sighed after Moody exited the front door. "I don't think I'll be there anyway." He mumbled under his own breath.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Hermione was feeling weak, sick, and tired. She was home, looking at her books. She had waited a day before trying to get to Harry's house. She had to apologize, see him again. She tried to apperate in, but was surprised to find that after avoiding the barrier and exiting the fireplace, she was thrown back into the network, and spit out of the fireplace at home. After six tries, crying and aching, she gave up. It was now a few days later. She sent countless owls to Harry, knowing that they would never get through the barriers to him. Hedwig hadn't visited her, and life was going by slowly. Painfully. 

                 Of course, to add to her mood it was raining heavily. She could see the waves of rain as they blew by her house in the streets. She checked her watch. 11:28. Time for bed. She quietly undressed, and slipped on her night gown. She really loved her nightgown. It was sky blue, with two red buttons at the top. She loved it's soft feel, its warmth, the sense of protection and comfort it gave her. She lay down and stared at the ceiling. Time crawled away. By the time the clock downstairs chimed once, signaling one o'clock in the morning, she was still laying still, looking up into the ceiling, the events of Harry's escape from her playing again in her head. Fantasizing what would have happened if she had stayed calm, and talked to him instead of mocking him. Maybe he would have stayed. Maybe he would have kissed her. Maybe she wouldn't be lying in bed at one in the morning staring at the ceiling wondering in vain what would have happened if she could control her emotions. 

                A small flash on her ceiling brought her out of her trance. She was too tired to think it was real, but to full of unfinished thoughts to sleep. It happened again. She could hear the loud patter of the water, and concluded it was lightening, but lightening was much more bright, and carried thunder with it. There was no thunder, and the light was more orange than the white of lightening. She slowly got out of bed to see what was the disturbance. She didn't have anything better to do, and it was distracting her from her fitful thinking.

                A sudden orange flash from the trees in the backyard startled her, and she fell backwards onto her rump. She groaned as she rolled over into a crawling position, before kneeling and standing. She went back to the window and watched as something in the shadows moved. She watched closely, and another orange flash appeared, for two long seconds. She knew this wasn't a light. The was something else, and it scared her. She grabbed her wand while trying to rub the sleep from her eyes. It was futile, and she needed to see what was happening before someone could do any serious damage. 

                She grabbed her bathrobe and threw it on haphazardly. She tied the cloth belt tightly, and held her wand tightly. She knew she was being foolish, going outside at one in the morning by herself to face a potential Death-Eater, but she had to redeem her bravery, she had to be the model Gryffindor, because she would probably end up prefect. If she lived.

                She opened her door and peered out into the hallway. Her parents were asleep, but she liked to check anyway. She tiptoed down the hall, keeping her feet near the wall, where the floor didn't creak as much. She slid down the stairs wishing desperately for this to be over soon. She hated to think what a Death-Eater could do to her. There was the obvious kill, but the torture was what scared her. She knew what some had done. She read the books. All sorts of painful tools and even rape to torture their prey. It made her shiver deep down inside. 

She finally made it out to the back door, and unlocked it quietly, before opening it, slipping out and closing it with one graceful movement. She realized she probably should have put on slippers, because the ground was swamped in mud and brown water. She placed her foot into the water and felt the icy liquid suck the little warmth from her body. As she stepped out from the overhang, the first raindrops hit her, soaking her in seconds. As her body became accustomed to the weather and surroundings, she walk forward to the small forest. Clutching her wand desperately, and being mindful not to slosh around making noise, she made her way to the first tree. Her robe was soon saturated, as was her nightgown, making them very heavy and restricting. Knowing that restricting clothing could mean her life if she had to shoot a quick spell, she reluctantly removed the robe, standing only in her nightgown and panties underneath. The water made the garments cling to her figure, and the cold made her nipple prominent. She sighed at what she would be revealing to this person, who, one hundred feet away was chanting something in the cover of the score of trees Ivy had planted when she married Rick. She left her robe on the ground, in the mud, and made her way behind the trees to the small circular clearing she often spent time in reading. Indeed there was a man there, chanting spells over bubbling cauldrons and a glowing wand. She pointed her wand at him but hesitated, curiosity wanting to reveal what exactly he was doing. The man was short when he stood to full height. She guessed him to be around five feet tall, but his deep melodious voice commanded respect, and gave him a sense of power and presence. 

He stopped chanting and added the contents of a small dish to the four cauldrons. He picked up the wand, and pointed it at the cauldrons. An orange jet shot out of his wand, and the potions glowed blue for a few seconds. He muttered 'finished' and she froze. Now he was ready to do the dreadful act he came for. She took careful aim in the dark, as he began walking in her general direction. '_Expelliarmus_' she cried, but the red light went passed him and bounced off one of the tree behind him. He ran at her and she tried to scream, but could only gurgle as she turned and tried to run from him. He was too quick, and dove, tackling her roughly, but the mud cushioned her fall and she tried to fight him off. He was too strong, and grabbed her wand from her. He took one hand to hold both of her wrists above her head, while his knee pinned down her stomach. He murmured '_Lumos_' and he shielded the light from hitting his own face, so he could see hers. 

"Hermione?" said the voice in shock. He held the wand in front of his face so she could see him. All of a sudden she wished it was a Death-Eater.

"HARRY! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!?!?" She yelled as he got off of her and helped her up. He was more soaked than she was, and covered in mud. He handed her her wand and she lit it brighter. She saw the relief on his face.

"Dammit. I thought you were a Death-Eater. Do you mind not firing spells at me when I am working."

"I thought YOU were a Death-Eater. Do you mind not doing magic at my house?" She snapped. He was silent for a second examining her body. He noticed her chest, and looked away in guilt. 

"Go back to sleep, Hermione. I need to finish this. You're cold, and your going to get sick. Go back to bed." She walked up to him and pushed him up against the nearest tree. Sometimes being taller was an advantage. 

"Why are you here?" Her tone was harsh, and normally he would cringe at her, but now he was just as composed as ever.

"I was laying some protective charms, spells, and potions in case your home was ever attacked."

"Why would my home ever be attacked?"

"Because the entire bloody world associates you as being my friend. The truth doesn't matter anymore, it is all appearances. You appear to be my friend, and you become a target. That means I have some bullshit moral responsibility to offer whatever protection I can."

"You-you don't think I'm your friend." He was silent.

"Just forget about it."

"No, I won't. Harry, I am your friend. I want to be your friend. I like you. Why are you pushing me away?"

"Because the closer you get, the more of a target you are. You're a good person, Hermione, and damn smart. You will be needed in the future. I'd hate to see you hurt by them, but if you stay by me, you will be, one way or the other. You are better off hating me."

"JUST STOP!!! Can we g-go inside and talk about this?"

"There's not much to talk about."

"After years of friendship you won't at least talk about it, you just want to have me hate you without so much as a reasonable explanation? You owe me at least a few minutes." She noticed he wouldn't look at her. She looked at herself. Besides being covered by mud, she was very revealed, and sensed his discomfort.

"Give me two minutes, and I'll come in and talk to you."

"Fine." She watched him go back into the clearing, and she picked up her robe looking at it with disgust. It was soaked brown from the muddy water, and was dripping sloppily. Harry returned with all four cauldrons hovering in front of him. He wordlessly approached her house, but did not go to the door. He just went around, pouring the cauldron's contents along the base of her house. She forgot to ask exactly what he was doing, but when he got back to the rear of the house. He pulled out his wand, and pointed it at her robe muttering '_Limpius_'. I a flash her robe was clean and dry. She immediately put it on, buit in seconds it was as soaked as before, just clean this time. He pushed her away from the house and pulled out a knife. He opened the blade and slit his middle finger, letting the blood mix with the potion hugging the foot of the house. The potion turned a glimmering silvery color, which spread around the house, lighting it with an eerie glow. He held his wand inches from the silvery substance, and said '_Incendio_.' She gasped as the potion ignited and burned bright white for four seconds all the way around the building, and burned itself out, leaving the house glowing faintly for nearly half a minute.

Harry healed hi finger and walked up beside her.

"Okay, we can talk now." His voice was deep but wavering. 

"C-Can we go inside first, maybe have some tea." He was obviously reluctant. "Please?"

"Fine." She led him to the back door, and they entered the kitchen. She was filthy, and knew her muddy footprints would get her weeks of punishment. Harry flicked his wand at her, muttering more incoherent words, and everything she wore was clean and dry, including her hair and body. The sudden dryness had her feeling warmer than normal. She took off her robe, and noticed her nipples went down again. Harry was already dry and clean. She turned on the light, and let her eyes grow used to it. She took a good look at him. He looked lost. Sad and depressed, he looked so frail yet so powerful, you wanted to run in both fear and disgust. His skin was leathery and sagging on his face, which was narrow and bony. He looked like a muscular skeleton who's seen too many deaths.  She reacted on instinct, and walked up in front of him, he eyed her with anticipation.

"Well?" She spread her arms and slowly wrapped them around his back, pulling herself against him. She waited patiently, but he never moved, he just stood there not reacting, not embracing her back. She venture to talk to him in this position, where he couldn't run away.

"I don't care what happens to me if I'm your friend. If you weren't my friend, if you didn't care enough to go and face a troll in first year to save my life, I'd be dead, or I'd be nothing. I want to be your friend. I care about more than you know. I need you to be my friend. I will take any of the consequences to be your friend, because you are worth it to me. Harry, you're worth it." She felt his muscles flex and relax. His arms went around her. She smiled, as he pulled her against him. He shifted his head, and buried his face in her neck. His warmth brought comfort to her, it brought completion. She held on a long time, until her body was beginning to fail her. She pulled away, to see something she hadn't seen on his face in a long time. Regret.

"Harry, please don't run away from me. Never run away from me. Promise me you won't." He was unresponsive, looking directly into her eyes. He had the hidden darkness. It was right there, in front of her. He was becoming dark, secluded, cut off from emotion. "Harry, I won't let you go until you promise me you won't abandon me. I need you. I need to know that you're alright. Promise me……say it Harry, say that you won't just up and go. Promise me."

"I promise I won't cut off all contact with you, and I will maintain a way to communicate with you. As for being alright, I haven't been alright for months, nor will I be. I can't sleep, I can't close my eyes without the images flashing across my eyelids. I can't go to the loo without fearing a Death-Eater may just pop out of the toilet. I won't be alright for a long, long time." She smiled faintly. He promised. She hugged him tightly, for a few seconds, and he returned the favor, but only barely. She let go and stepped back a few feet, giving her the ability to see all of him.

"Let's have some tea, or do you want some hot chocolate? Something hot to warm you up. Come on. Have something."

"I'm fine really, Hermione, but I really should be going. It's getting late."

"Sit down, Potter, you and I both know that you aren't going to sleep, and you ARE going to sit with me, what do you want? Tea, or Hot Cocoa?" He sighed, it never was much use arguing with her. 

"Tea is fine." He grumbled as he sat in a chair at the kitchen table. Hermione went to the cupboard over the sink and opened it, searching through what looked like various containers. 

"Where is it? I swear it was here this morning." She said under her breath, but Harry heard it anyway.

"Where is what?"

"The tea. It was here earlier." Hermione now had her knee on the sink and was balancing precariously on the small counter top bridging between the sink and the room. 

"Try the pantry." Said a deep, obviously amused voice from the darkness of the dining room. Hermione slipped and fell onto the kitchen floor after emitting a frightened squeak. Harry didn't even flinch. 

"DAD! What are you doing?" She near yelled at him as he emerged into the light. He was wearing his baize slippers and brown bathrobe. She stumbled up, her hands still shaking from the fright.

"Harry told me he'd be coming by sometime this week to protect the house, and when I saw flashes in the trees, I got curious and decided to watch. I saw you go out after him, I honestly thought you were crazy to go out in the weather, but you wouldn't have stopped even if I told you to. Very funny to hear your conversation when you got back. I'm not going to give you the 'It's past your bedtime speech.'" Hermione sighed happily, "I'll leave it for your mother in the morning." Hermione's face went very white, and Rick began to chuckle. 

"Harry, you remember my father, right?"

"Yes. I was wondering when you were going to show yourself." Harry said looking directly at Rick.

"You knew he was there?" Hermione screeched. "Why didn't you say anything?" 

"I supposed if he wanted to come forward, he would on his own time. I was in no mood to drag him out of the shadows. I suppose he got quite a show." Harry mused.

"Ah yes, the joys of being a teenager. I remember well. When you set the house on magic fire, I thought I was going to wet meself. Oh, while you're making tea, love, do you mind making me a cup too?" Rick asked.

"No, I don't mind." She said irritably. So much for having tea alone with Harry. She opened the pantry, and immediately spotted the tea. She grabbed some, and put it in three mugs, before filling a kettle with water. She place the kettle on the table and looked expectantly at Harry.

"What?" Harry said tonelessly.

"Can you boil the water so we don't have wait for it." She asked sharply. She stopped herself from saying more. She was getting frustrated, and she couldn't do that. It would only make him run away again. "Please?" She asked sincerely. Rick gave her a weird look. The sharp voice followed by soft voice confused him. Harry pulled out his wand, and began chanting slowly under his breath while flicking his wand at the kettle. Twenty second later steam began to issue from the spout of the kettle, and finally it whistled. Hermione poured the water into the mugs and Harry stopped whatever he did to boil the water.

"Why'd it take so long? Why didn't you just use the boiling charm?" She asked innocently.

"I don't know the boiling charm, so I did what I do best. I improvised. I used the heating charm over and over again." He said cautiously. Hermione passed around the mugs, and placed a bunch of sugar in hers, but when she offered to Harry and Rick, they both declined. There were a few minutes of thoughtful silence.

"So Harry…" Rick began "…what's all this talk of running away. What're you running from?" Harry was slow in answering, as if measuring which answer would be best.

"Your daughter." Harry said simply. Hermione almost spit out her tea, and Rick eyed him carefully. 

"Why are you running from my daughter?" Rick was genuinely curious.

"I don't know how to tell you this, but since Voldemort has risen again, I am his primary target, so your daughter, who in our world is publicly associated with me, is in danger. The closer I am to her, the more danger she's in." Harry responded.

"Right, so you don't want her in danger. She has been in danger before, I don't see the point in taking such drastic measures." Harry sighed.

"This is different. You don't understand." Harry said, controlling his frustration.

"That's fair, make me understand." Harry put his mug on the table and leaned back in his chair looking Rick directly in the eye.

"Back when Voldemort first rose to power there was a foolish seventh year Gryffindor who said in front of a number of people with connections to Voldemort something along the lines of Voldemort is a homosexual. It seems word got back to Voldemort. Three days later the boy received a notice saying his parents were killed. The next day he was told his seven, SEVEN year old sister was raped and beaten within an inch of her life. The next day his Grandparents were killed. The next his aunts and uncles. Then his great aunts and great uncles. Then his cousins. His girlfriend was murdered. Then his best friend. By then every person was isolating him, pushing him away. Finally, on a beautiful spring morning he was found castrated, and alive, crucified in the middle of the great hall of the school. The spells wouldn't allow anyone near him. He died forty hours later and the spells wore off. He was buried without a funeral. He was buried hated, despised by the world he was part of. I am, and will always be Voldemort's primary target. Thanks to him I already have no family, so he only has a few people to choose from. Your daughter is currently very high on the list of potential targets. My job is to try to get her off the list. Now do you understand?" The silence was deafening. Hermione was white as a ghost and felt like one flew through her, chilling her to the bone. She saw her father shift uneasily under Harry's piercing stare. It took a lot of scary shit to scare her father. 

"This, this is some kind of a joke, right?" Rick said, his voice unsure.

"No. The sister still live, but she is currently insane, and twenty five years old, living in a magical psychiatric institution. Do you want to know the disgusting part?"

"Not really." Rick said while looking at Hermione.

"Shortly after the boy was killed, the Death-Eater who raped the girl came forward, showing evidence and everything, but the prosecutors were so scared they just let him go. He came back with evidence that he killed twelve people, and they, again, let him go. That is the fear the wizarding world has of this monster, and your daughter is one of his top targets because of me. How does that make you feel about me being friends with Hermione? I bet every knut, or pence I have that you would rather have it that we never met."

"Well, not really."

"You would be less concerned if we weren't friends." Harry pointed out.

"True, but you are, so what would it help if you separated now? Isn't the damage already done?" Rick said slowly.

"As much as I appreciate you trying to salvage my friendship, Dad, I think I should be the one doing this." Hermione said. They both looked at her like she was a zombie. She let out a groan and they went back to their discussion.

"Yes, we are known to be friends, but if it was made public that we hated each other beyond hope, then she would be reduced on the list, by a significant margin. I have an idea that should work." Harry continued.

"And what would that be?" Rick was anxious.

"We meet up in Diagon alley, the very middle of it, and we say our quiet goodbyes. She would probably be crying, because it really would be goodbye. The she starts yelling about how I betrayed her, and how she can never forgive. We take out our wands and throw spells at each other until she throws the killing curse at me. Of course she misses, and I run in fear of my life. Bingo, we hate each other, and Voldemort needs to find a new target." Harry said with finality.

"Details would need to be worked out, but it is a good start. You are very noble to forfeit a friendship to save lives. Not many would do it." Rick said, with a hint of admiration in his voice.

"AHEM! Don't I have any say in this. Harry can't do it anyway, because he already promised to not run away and cut contact with me. Too bad." Hermione said forcefully.

"Honey, in this case I think it is alright to revoke that promise, it is for the best." Rick said just as forcefully.

"Stop it now, both of you. Hermione is right, I promised to remain in contact with her, and this plan isn't worth anything anyway. I just did that to show you how you really feel about the situation, Mr. Granger. You worry about her safety, as I do, and you are scared. I understand and am doing the best I can to ensure her safety, but there is only so much I can do. She is a target regardless of what happens now. Any changes in my social life would not go unsuspected of foul play. Voldemort is hard to fool, and he will come after her. I only hope she can get away. That is all anyone can hope for when he knocks on your door."

"Wait, so that was all…" Rick said.

"A bluff. Yes it was. But it proved my point. You don't want her to be with me, and I don't want her to be with me either, but I was put into this pan, and no matter how hard I fight, she is going to be pulled into the pan with me." Harry finished, and resumed sipping his tea.

"Wow. Have you ever thought of a career in acting. You're damn good." Rick said with enthusiasm. 

"No acting for me. I'd love to stay and chat, but there are places I need to be. I'll send you an owl soon, and don't worry about me. If I'm not fine, then I'm probably happy with my parents. No use crying over me if I die. It would be a waste of tears. See you soon." Harry stood sharply and walked out of the back door, amidst shocked looks from Hermione and Rick.

"That boy is…"Rick began.

"What?" Hermione asked, too stunned to really care for an answer.

"Thorough. Damn thorough, and a good person too."

"Yeah, Dad, I know."

Guys, sorry this is late, but I had a term paper that had priority. But I still pumped out these 6,200 words. My longest yet. Woohoo. If you reviewed it would be nice, if you didn't it would be fine as well.

Now, for a few thoughts. Stoneheart, that was an awesome review, really magnificent of you to look so deeply into my humble work. 

Harry is not ~really~ dark, he is just doing some dark things. Some people mentioned that his motorcycle did magic in front of muggles. Harry, in my fic, never put any magic on his bike, so he was the one responsible for everything going on there. Paladin Steelbreaker sent me greetings from Norway. I was wonderin what was up with the whole tension between the Nors and Swedes. I am like 40% Swedish so I was wondering why everyone is all huffy about being one or the other. By the way, everyone has to try Swedish Fontina. I swear it is the greatest cheese I have ever had.  THANK YOU ALL AND HAPPY READING!!! Review if you feel the urge, I appreciate it. 


	15. Troubling Thoughts

                "Hey, Spencer?" Harry chimed from the entrance to the office. He really didn't want to waste his time trying to maneuver through the ever-changing mountains of books of Spencer's new shipments.

                "Yeah, 'arry?"

                "Can I, talk, to you for a moment?" Harry called into the room.

"Sure, sure. Wait up a minute, laddy, I gotta find me way outta here." Harry leaned on the doorframe and watched as some of the mountains quivered as an unseen person walked by them. Finally, the aged man came out of one of the canyons nearby and walked over to Harry. "Whatcha got t' say. I gotta git ready. Fourteen new titles to b' release in the morrow. Got to be ready."

                "Of course. Um, how do I put this. I'm becoming very busy, and I would like to change my schedule if that's alright with you." Harry said in the nicest voice he could muster.

                "Sure."

                "Right, um, how often do you need me to work, exactly?"

                "Hones'ly. I don't. But I like havin' you around. Yeh work hard, and yeh work well. I couldn't ask fer more."

                "Really?" Harry sputtered.

                "Abs'lutely."

                "Then could I just come like, four times a week, for the morning OR the afternoon, for one Galleon."

                "Why not? Am I goin' t' know when yer comin'?" Harry was quiet in thought.

                "Probably not." He said in a sigh. Why would any employer agree to that.

                "That's beautiful. Yeh know how much money yeh got from me? Huh? This is perfect. I don't need t' know when yer comin'. I'll just always have a bit o' work always ready for yeh. Don' worry 'bout it. Havin' some fun with th' lasses, are ya?"

                "NO! I mean no, but thanks for the thought, I'd really better be going. I'll see you…in a few days."

                "As yeh wish, Harry. Take care."

                "Yeah, Thanks Spencer. Bye." Harry strode from the doorway, and took the floo home. 

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                It was an awkward dinner. Usually Harry ate up in his room all alone, and only ate with the rest of the Dursleys when there was an occasion. All three of them eyed Harry warily, with varying amounts of disgust. It wasn't long until they all were done with their steak, and slowly finishing their cherry pie. Harry put down his fork, earning himself the attentive glances of the Dursleys. He made it like he didn't know that they were fearfully looking at him, but was laughing inside. Very slowly, he slipped his hand into his pocket, and noticed Dudley, and Aunt Petunia stopped eating, devoting all of their attention to him. He held a small manila envelope in the palm of his hand, before deliberately putting it in the center of the table. Even Vernon was watching now. 

                Harry met each of their gazes, and smiled as they looked away when his eyes focused on each of theirs. He very slowly, reach out his hand, and lay it on the small package. As he pushed it towards Dudley, Petunia gasped. Harry quickly changed direction, pulling his hand off the package while it was situated in front of Uncle Vernon. Vernon sent him a questioning glance, and Harry nodded. Vernon picked up the envelope as Petunia started squeaking. 

                Vernon knew Harry wouldn't do anything too horrid. Harry wasn't that type of person, to just go around hurting people. He felt the contents of the package. They seemed hard, like metal, and oddly shaped. As he bent back the two small clasps, Harry whispered a 'boo'. Petunia shrieked and Dudley jumped up. Harry fell back into his chair chuckling. He knew he was driving them mad. 

                Finally, with the envelope open, Vernon inserted one of his chubby fingers and pulled out a key, attached by way of a ring, to a metal medallion with 'Cadillac' emblazoned  on it. Vernon saw Harry with a warm, friendly grin on his face. Harry nodded seeing the confusion his uncle's face. Petunia and Dudley looked between them, trying to fathom the meaning, but it was beyond them. 

As if on queue, Uncle Vernon and Harry both stood up and casually walked to the door, before exiting the house. Petunia and Dudley exchanged a look, before running after them. They stopped on the front lawn as Vernon was standing next to the driveway, watching as Harry push a very new looking old fashioned automobile out of the garage. Petunia was ready to start screaming about the boy having to push the car out of the garage if it worked, and that if Vernon trusted the stupid boy, it would be best if the car exploded with his fat ass inside. 

Vernon circled the vehicle, as if it were a lost fantasy come alive. He had his chubby index finger trace the lines of the aqua and white panels. Finally, he made to the open drivers door, and with a small amount of difficulty got in. The shock absorbers squeaked painfully. Vernon showed Harry a worried glance.

"Don't worry, I'll oil them later." Harry walked to the passenger side and gave Dudley and Petunia a look questioning if they were coming along. Petunia forcefully grabbed Dudley's arm stopping him from going along. Harry shrugged and jumped into the passenger seat beside his uncle. 

It all happened in slow motion. He held the key inn his had, fidgeting before gathering the emotional strength to put it in the ignition. How long he'd waited to own a car like this, and now, now he finally had one. He just wished his father was alive to shout 'I told you so!' at the top of his lungs. But that was for later, as his arm automatically placed the key in the ignition. There was no resistance as it slid in ever so easily into the socket, begging to be turned over. 

Harry watched with amusement as Uncle Vernon took a deep breathe before turning the key. As if anticipating this rebirth from shambles, the car roared to life, with a throaty growl. Vernon smiled and looked to Harry with infinite gratitude and pride. He actually wiped a tear from his eye. Harry could only smile. He cherished this makeshift father-son bonding, because he rarely ever got any. Vernon let down the roof, and grinned as the sky became the ceiling, an he shifted into gear as if the car was made of glass. The car crept very slowly out of the driveway, without touching any of the pedals. After they turned onto Privet Drive, Vernon touched the brakes and smiled again as the car stopped. Being after dinner, and in a growing darkness, Vernon switched on the headlights, and put on his seatbelt. Seeing the glint in his uncle's eye as he put on his seatbelt, Harry knew what was coming. He was going to finally find out what Yankees so keenly named a muscle car. Harry, in one swift movement grabbed his seatbelt and put it on, a blink before he felt the engine roar. There was a sharp lurch as the car began speeding at illegal speeds down Privet Drive. It was almost as good as riding his motorcycle, the wind whipping through his hair, the vibration reminding him of the life of the automobile. 

After the rocket like launch, Harry and Vernon cruised along the highways and suburban roads, enjoying the peace and coolness of the night. When they arrived back at Privet drive, Harry could only feel that the wonderful time was too short, despite being two hours. They sat in the driveway, listening to the steady churning of the engine, letting the night sink in. Finally, with sadness in their eyes, the car was turned off and they exited the vehicle. No words could make up the emotions they were feeling. Harry of pride, a sense of accomplishment, and Vernon a feeling of rapture, of feeling something he dreamed of as a kid. They left the car, oil heard dripping into the oil pan, the smell of the fresh air still lingering in their noses.

Harry made his way up to his room, and lay down to go to sleep. But, as always, when still, thoughts come. It wasn't long until Cedric's ghostly face appeared behind Harry's eyes. In final desperation, Harry let the sequence of events come, and tried to alter the ending. The only thing that happened was Pettigrew curse him instead of Cedric. This brought a smile to his face. Not that death was welcoming, but he figured that in a way, it's inevitability made it wanted in a way. Like a warm cottage at the end of a road. The only wonder was whether the next cottage was yours, or if you had to wait, trudging through the bullshit they called life until you finally found your resting place.

It was the image of him not having to deal with the guilt, the emotional torture of being the cause of Cedric's death. He would not be seeing Cedric's pale face, frozen in horror, if he'd been the one killed. He would be with his parents,  he would be loved, and for once, he would be happy. And Cedric, he would be alive, happily planning his life with Cho, having snog sessions, maybe dreaming of owning a house with little Cedric's tumbling about. Plus, if Pettigrew had killed Harry straight off, Voldemort wouldn't have risen again. _He would have found another way, and Cedric probably would have died sooner or later, _his mind argued. 

A sudden thought came. He wondered if Voldemort knew that he was having his thought. He would probably be laughing at him. Harry saw Voldemort appear before him, laughing the ice cold shrill shriek that Harry knew from his nightmares. All of a sudden he was surrounded by Voldemorts, all laughing at him as green flames rose around them. Their firey red eyes piercing into his mind and tearing him apart. Harry jumped up with his wand in hand, nervously glancing around the scores of Voldemorts, until his eyes found one, just watching him, with an evil smirk. Harry's emotions boiled over in hate and fury, and a need for revenge.

"_AVADA KADAVRA_" Harry screamed as he pointed his wand at the one smiling Voldemort. There was an abrupt change in setting, as Harry saw that he was in his room, and all was dark. He found himself feeling very lightheaded and dizzy, but he managed to turn on the lamp. He looked around the room, as the smell of something toxic burning caught his senses, and woke him up from his drowsy state. He touched his scar, expecting it to hurt, because he remembered every detail of the dream, but his scar was fully intact, but sore from the night before. He looked around his room. Looking for what he knew not, but his eyes rested on a large black spot on his white wall. It was smoking. He knew what that meant, and walked over to it, as if scared that it would bite him. He reached out a finger and touched the dark feature, expecting it to burn him, but it only collapsed into a very fine dust, revealing the inside of his wall. He began panting heavily, unsure what to do, looking at the plaster of his cousin's wall from the other side. It was black as well. He touched it, and sighed, seeing the it did not go through. It could have been a disaster. Harry decided that he had to make sure Dudley's room was intact anyway, and crept out of his room. 

Once in the hallway, Harry knew his silencing charm no longer applied, and avoided the squeaky floorboards as he opened his cousin's door and crept in. He was surprised to see the lights on, and his cousin sitting in bed, his face white and his wobbly chin shaking. Harry followed the gaze to a spot on the wall, where it looked like someone slammed a blunt object into it. The paint was peeling and smoking, and stained greenish. If the wall hadn't held the curse, Dudley, would have been killed. Harry let out a sigh, and silently thanked any non-existent celestial beings. He walked over to the wall, and murmured '_restorus_' to it. The bump disappeared and the wall resumed it's original shape. Harry then discarded all the paint nearby, and repainted the entire wall, the same color as before. The dizziness was getting to him, and he leaned against the wall, trying to figure out what to do about the wall in his room. It was at this time he noticed Dudley holding a real bow and arrow, pointed at Harry's head, not ten feet away. 

"Y-y-you almost-t k-killed me." He said. It was not a question. Harry couldn't help but wonder if Dudley knew it was the truth or was exaggerating his thoughts.

"It was an accident. I was sleeping, and…and I had a bad dream." Dudley didn't seem to believe him.

"You can't do magic when you're s-sleeping." Harry noticed that the bow was drawn, and he realized the danger of the situation.

"Not only can I do magic when I'm sleeping, I can do magic whenever the fuck I want to, and if you don't put that pathetic excuse for a weapon down, I will show you what magic can really do." Dudley froze. He never saw the storms congregate behind Harry's eyes. He never saw small, scrawny Harry ever look so...intimidating. In his fear he let the arrow go. Harry closed his eyes smiling, he would finally had his subconscious wish, to be with his parents, to stop feeling the pain, to find peace………………Harry opened his eyes to see Dudley shaking more then San Francisco in 1906. Dudley dropped his bow, and scampered back into his bed, crying aloud, awaiting Harry's wrath. 

Harry thought he was dead, he felt no pain, just a little lightheaded. That was before he saw the arrow a centimeter away from his forehead, hovering in space. Harry reached up and wrapped his fingers around it, before plucking it out of the invisible force that held it there. He sighed aloud, and slid along the wall, slowly to the ground. This had to be the most fucked up situation he'd ever been in. He sent the killing curse at his wall, which turned to ash, he fixed his cousin's wall, was almost murdered, wanted to be murdered, was saved by god knows what, and scarred the shit out of his cousin. He was entitle to sigh. He knew what he had to do, but his energy was drained. Finally, he approached his cousin's bed, and smirked seeing Dudley trying to used his sheets as a shield from him. He could vaguely hear Dudley praying as well. He did not want resistance, but it had to be done, either the hard way or the easy way.

"Dudley, I'm not going to hurt you, I just need to talk to you for a second. Don't you think if I wanted to hurt you I would have done it already, instead of playing around. Come on. I'll explain everything to you. You'll like some of the stories I can tell you." There was only the quiet huffing of the hidden boy. "Many of the stories involve me being maimed in some way, you'll enjoy it. Come on, I don't bite"…"hard" he muttered under his breath. Slowly, Dudley's eye's peeped out from behind the sheets. He was very red in the face, and whimpering softly. Harry sat down on the floor to give the image that he wasn't going to do anything. As soon as Dudley's head was clear of the sheets, Harry pointed his wand at him, focused and said "_Obliviate_" very clearly. Dudley's eyes unfocused, and refocused on Harry. 

"What are you doing in my room!?!?" Dudley said with shocked contempt. Harry jumped up while pocketing his wand. 

"Fine, if you want to be mean to me, then I won't help you get laid. Do it on your own." Harry jogged out of the room, and into his own smiling the whole way. He had never accomplished that spell before, and was happy to be able to do so. He let out the air in his lungs, and felt as if his entire being flew out as well. He could feel a change entering his body, modifying his soul. Something was happening. Panic struck, but just as quickly disappeared. What if he died. He collapsed, unconscious, with that thought and a smile on his face.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Harry awoke to sudden speaking.

                "Poppy, how is our patient doing today?" Harry would have answered for himself but his had a crushing headache. He would have grabbed his head, but his arms were already in that position. 

                "Fine Albus, but there are a few things I would like to discuss with you. I want to know what happened. Why there is a hole in the wall? I need to know what he did." He could sense her frustration rising.

                "I would enlighten you, alas, I am not aware myself." Dumbledore was as composed as ever. 

                "I cannot believe you won't let me take him to Hogwarts, instead making me stay here with him and these, these muggles!!! Have they told you nothing?" 

                "They know of none of Harry's doings, however…" Harry felt himself cringe, "…young Mr. Dursley is having a bit of a memory lapse. I have already tried minimal ways to try to refresh his memory, but I'm afraid if I try too hard there may be damage. Regrettably, that is not a path I wish to take."

                "So I have to wait for Potter to awake is it? I have been waiting for two days, Albus. Two days! Who knows who has gone to the Hospital wing in need of medical attention and I am stuck here."

                "I assure you, Poppy, all is well here. I would alert you if anything that required your attention arose." There was a moment of silence.

                "He's been out for two days since the pulse Albus. What does it mean? I can't help him if I don't know what it means.

                "He alone can inform us of his own doings."

                "Why can't we bring him to Hogwarts, again?"

                "He is safer here Poppy, and unless I am mistaken, he just wiggled his toes." Harry smiled at that. Nothing got by the man. Harry kept his arms wrapped around his head which felt like if he removed them, his head would fall apart. Slowly he sat up and looked around his room. Madame Pomfrey was standing with her arms crossed, tapping her foot whilst Dumbledore stood erect as usual, with the twinkle in his eyes. "Good afternoon Harry. We were all very concerned about your health. How are you feeling?" Harry took a moment to put it best.

                "Like acid is slowly eating away at my brain." He groaned, as his eyes got adjusted to the light.

                "Lily had migraines as well. Take this." Harry carefully took a goblet of very water blue potion, and gulped it down slowly. It was a sweet fruity potion, and it made his headache vanish instantly. He opened his eyes all the way and took in his surroundings. The lack of light coming through the window made him aware that it was afternoon. He looked around and notice that the wall was still advertising it's large hole, roughly the size of the kitchen sink.

                "This is what we know, Harry. The magic detector sensed a magical impulse from this address. Do you understand what that means?" Dumbledore said, meeting Harry's gaze.

                "Vaguely."

                "It means that _someone's_ magical energy was built up, then released. A large amount was released. Considering your coma I am right in assuming you performed the impulse?" It really wasn't a question, but Harry nodded anyway. "I see. Are you ready to shed light on this situation." Harry reflected on what he could remember. It wasn't whether or not to tell Dumbledore, it was…how.

                "I, uh, well…I hallucinated." Judging from the headmaster's expression, this was not the answer he was expecting. Harry ventured to continue. "I saw Voldemort, and I reacted…I, it was a dream, but my scar didn't hurt…I used the killing curse."  Madam Pomfrey had a sharp intake of breathe, but no one said anything. "It hit the wall." Harry nodded towards the hole in the wall.

                "May I ask why you were using such a deadly curse." Despite attempts, the waver in the headmaster's voice was present, and rightly so. The youngest person ever to successfully complete the killing curse was nineteen…Harry was four years younger than that.

                "It was Voldemort, does it matter?" Harry said, venom seeping through. And so they sat, each to their own thoughts, contemplating what to do. Ten minutes later, Harry dared to break the quiet. "I feel fine, you don't need to be here, Madam Pomfrey." She got the message, and eyed him suspiciously before leaving through the door. Dumbledore looked at him pointedly.

                "Harry, you had no training prior to this incident. This makes you very, dangerous and places you in a very pivotal situation."

                "I understand that."

                "Do you?" Dumbledore stated, not lacking amusement.

                "It would not be safe for me to return to Hogwarts. I feel that I am a danger to the students, and I would be better off here." Harry explained. Dumbledore's amusement quickly departed.

                "Harry…"

                "If I did that in the night, I could have hit anyone in the dormitory, Ron included. It is not safe for me to be there."

                "Arrangements can be made for you to sleep in a more comfortable atmosphere."

                "There's more to it than that."

                "I'm listening." The wizened man said. Harry sighed. This was hard to say, but it was the truth, and it needed saying.

                "I don't want to go back. I'm not ready to face Cedric again." His voice was barely above a whisper, but every word seemed to ring inside the room.

                "I can understand your emotions, however, I feel certain that this decision will only be ripe to be made when the start of term is much, much nearer." Harry nodded. He didn't expect Dumbledore to understand, nor did he feel the strength to say it. He never waned to go back.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                He stared at the luster of the steel. It was so hypnotic, the reflective shine, the mechanical preciseness of it. He held it up in the twilight, wishing it to do what he struggled so hard to do. But it only stared back. Lifeless, and cold as ice. An animal shrieking stole his gaze out of the window. Dark clouds which had been gathering started a steady rain, increasing the gloomy thickness of the air. Harry felt his soul suffocating slowly, and it was time to end it. To finally throw away the trash forced upon him, and free himself from the torturous bonds he was restricted by. He nervously fingered the metal, wondering why he had chosen a stainless steel blade, did he not want infection to follow? He would be dead if it went as planned, but nothing went as planned in his life, not even a simple walk to the park. He hardened his resolve. If he ever wanted peace, if he ever wanted to be loved, he had to do this. He had to be strong and do this, or was he just being weak? Did it even matter? He wasn't the same person he used to be. His face looked deathly pale, with sallow eyes that reflected his slow death inside. His body felt shriveled, and his mind tired. He didn't have the motivation any longer, he didn't want to go any further. He just wanted…peace. Peace from the press, peace from the public, peace from his friends, peace from his enemies, peace from…himself. He was the cause of all this. With him gone, all the world's problems would go away, his problems would go away, he would be safe. No more looking over his shoulder, no more worrying about everything. This was it. He had to do it, to save the world. 

                He placed the sharp end of the blade against his skin, and pushed down firmly, but shallowly. Nothing happened, he felt the cold hard metal, but it did not pierce. He felt the blood flow to the spot on his wrist, the thick passionate juices trying to get out, helping him to end it. Very slightly, he slid the blade, and felt the sting. It was dull and ironically enjoyable. It tickled in some sense. In his growing excitement, he dug one of the corners of the blade into his flesh, and felt the sudden sharp jolt of pain. It was screaming at him to stop, that his friends needed him. The world needed him. _Fuck the world_. His mind screamed back, as he watched the blood steadily coat his hand. But Hermione, she reached out to him. She alone felt his troubles, and attempted to reconcile any conflicts of interest. She wanted him alive.

                In fear of his own actions he threw the razor onto his desk. It bounced erratically until it came to a rest on his desk chair. He couldn't look at his arm in shame, but saw the smear of blood on the once clean and lustrous edge. Guilt and shame overflowed his emotional pool. He had to get out, he had to get away. He didn't trust himself with his own welfare any longer. He had gone too far, he had stretched his limits. He needed a break. He needed to break away.

                **BANG**. He raced out of the house and away from the village. He ran as fast as he could, away from people. He just ran, the rain soaking his body, and fogging his vision, his body screaming  for him to go in every direction. His mind tearing itself apart. Time passed in slow motion, but the scenery changed in a flash. When he stopped, he felt the cramps all over his body; his arms, his legs, his chest contracting fiercely. He was in a small clearing surrounded by trees in the pouring rain, not a sign of humans anywhere. He was leaning on the trunk of a young tree, and slid to the ground. His hand covered in blood and water, he smiled expressionlessly at the world, and slowly seeped into a dreamless sleep. His death would just have to wait.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

                Something told him to wake up. He just opened his eyes and looked around. He wasn't at all surprised by his placement at the base of a tree. It felt natural to be there. It felt like he should have been there a long time ago. But then there was that feeling that it was time to wake up. The sun. Of course, the sun. No electronic beeping alarm clocks, not relatives banging on the door, the sun, and only the sun. It was still early in the morning, he chose not to check his watch. It would only show him numbers, and numbers didn't mean anything here anyway. He glanced at his left hand and cringed as he saw that it was caked in blood. Reflecting, he was glad he wasn't dead, but at the same time, unsure whether he should be dead or not. He could swear being told that slitting the wrists wouldn't clot, and cause a person to bleed to death. Yet he was very much alive, and admiring the greenery around him. A shuffle in the underbrush alerted him of a fox, that looked into his eyes, before curiously trotting away. Harry couldn't help but feel that this was where he belonged. 

                He could see no houses, nor hear any cars. This was what life was intended to be. This was important.

Hey everybody. I'm sorry this took so long, and that it's so short. Finals are coming up in 2 weeks and I have little time. I hope you understand. 

That little section of Harry and the razor was kinda dark. A little scary even. I didn't know I had it in me. I suppose that's what listening to Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon will do to you. 

2 people have me on their favorite's list. I cannot tell you how touched I am by this. I don't even know who these people are. Identify yourselves!

Paladin Steelbreaker – Thank you for reviewing. It probably would be better for Harry to embrace the idea of bringing Hermione closer, but in my fic, I am trying to build him as being unstable, and he knows he is unstable. He doesn't trust himself to be close to her, so he makes lame excuses to push her away. She is his greatest weakness, while being his greatest strength.

Stoneheart – Nappa is looking over his shoulder at me? Really? I don't mind the short review. It's better than nothing. I would also like to say your fics are enjoyable as well. Everyone here should take a peek.

Thank you to everyone else as well; MythX, Vagrantshadow, Wraith, thefly, Condor5, and makulit. I LOVE YOU ALL!

**People, tell me how you want this story to go, and what you think of it so far. It doesn't take long to click that button and say what is on your mind, even if it is something like "This story is crap." I want to hear what you have to say. **


	16. Survival

                Walking was not the word for it. Harry was traveling by foot, through this forest without a care in the world. He was strolling. Walking so slowly that even the animals didn't notice him. He stopped at every tree, every flower, every stream, and absorbed the living pulse of the world. The real world. 

                He picked up a peach colored flower. It reminded him of Ginny's cheeks when he visited. A simple memory made him smile. He found a violet blossom hanging from a vine, and inhaled it's scent. Why couldn't the entire world be…forested, with flowers. No more buildings, or people, just…life. Why was there so little life in people. Had they deviated so far from their origins that they were no longer part of the natural world? He once again looked at his wrist. The caked blood was preaching that he had the same life-force of any other creature. He wanted to wash it away, but was worried about dislodging the scab, and he had nothing to cover it with…did he? He looked around, and could feel the realizations descending into his mind. Here, in the middle of no where, he had infinite potential. Absolute control over himself. No restrictions by law or otherwise. No morals or values to uphold. Here, here he was free. 

                He glance down at a wide, stony brook and stopped at it. It's flowing water so graceful, and the gurgling sound so beautiful. More pure than anything he'd ever known. He cupped his hand, and brought some of the water to his mouth, before spitting it out. The flavor of blood still fresh on his hands. He sighed and looked back at the stream, fighting as civilization fought it's way back into his head.

                Images of the Auror's Handbook found it's way into his mind. It was a checklist of things to do when abandoned and magic-less in the wilderness. _8. Make sure you are well hydrated. Almost all natural streams and rivers are safe to drink from, but never drink still water, unless under the direst of situations…_There. He got rid of it, and stared blankly at the stream. It was two feet deep, and brownish silver fish swam lazily around. The water was moving, so it was fine. He felt a wet warmth on his hand, and saw the blood slowly creep from his wrist. If it was going to bleed anyway, he might as well clean it out. He dipped his hand into the cool stream, and rubbed the area with his other hand. Enjoying the sensation of all of the dry, gritty, and dirty blood off of his body. Improvising, he grabbed a large leave from a nearby plant. It seemed too big to be a bush, but not quite tall enough to be a tree. He like the leathery feel of the leaf and it's dark color. He wrapped it around his wrist, and tore a couple of feet of thin vine from a tall tree to his left, and wrapped it around the leaf, securing it on his arm. He felt oddly happy about his makeshift band-aid, and watched the fish continue to swim around, not bothered by swimming against the current. Harry wished he was like the fish, they always swim against the current, but they were adapted to do so. As more things came at Harry, he was unable to simply swim around them, and the dragged him back, slowly suffocating him…

But now was not the time to be analyzing his problems, he only needed to get out of the woods, and get home. And he was hungry. Watching the fish only made it worst. He felt his stomach growl irritably, angry for being ignored for so long. What was he to eat. He didn't recognize anything edible, except for the fish, and how was he supposed to get one of them? Spear? He didn't have the skill. He had no rod, nor a net. He close his eyes, and waited quietly. 'Listen to nature, it will provide an answer.' He examined the stream and saw a small puddle, really, off to the side of the stream, on the near shore. In it were a couple fish, lazily eating algae. Harry got an idea, and started scrambling around the forest picking up rocks of various sizes. Taking great care not to disturb the fish, he very slowly placed the rocks across the entrance to the cove. With the last rock, he sat on the ground and looked into his man made pond. In it were three fish that could not leave due largely to his ingenious idea. Now he had all the time in the world to figure out how to get them out of the water, but he didn't want to think about it, and took off his shoes and socks before walking right into his pond, enjoying the feeling of the round pebbles and sand in his toes. He tried desperately to grab the fish but they were too fast and very slippery. He realized the futility and gave up, resorting to trying to find another means. An idea entered his mind and he set to work immediately. It was slow work, but effective in catching a fish. He made the wall he put up between the pond and stream thicker, and then proceeded to take rocks from the streamside of the wall and place them on the pond side of the wall, making the pond smaller and smaller. Soon later, his four foot wide pond was only two feet wide, and then very small, so small he could drop in a large rock and be guaranteed to squash one of the three fish. But he wasn't going to be so violent. He stuck his hand in and began grabbing. With no place to swim off to, he was able to secure a grip on the largest of the three creatures, and pulled it out as it bucked and fluttered. He walked a few feet from the waters edge and lay down a few clean leaves before placing the fish down on top. He caught a fish, and was going to eat it. 

He wondered along the shore for ten minutes before finding what he was looking for. Some slate. He grabbed a large chip of it, and rinsed it in the brook, before returning to his now dead fish. He supposed he was going to get messy, and the fish may be bloody, but blood never bothered him. He jabbed the stone into the fish, and watched the guts shoot out onto his shirt…he could clean it later. He sat for ten minutes, and cleaned the scales off of the fish, before cutting out four small fillets. He smiled, then frowned. He could never eat raw fish, he had to cook it. To cook he needed fire, and he had no way to created fire. He had magic, but he didn't bring a wand. _Wandless Magic._ His mind chanted. He grabbed a few good sized logs and put them in the best formation he could think of, crisscrossing each other like a log cabin. Then he put his hand inches from the wood, focused as best he could, and said '_Incendio._' A spot on the nearest log turned black and smoked, He touched it, and it was warm, but no flame. He needed something smaller. He needed…leaves. He grabbed a bunch of dead brown leaves, and small twigs. He threw them into the center of his fireplace and rolled up his sleeve. He stuck his hand into the logs, and above the leaves and small twigs and said '_Incendio_' once again. Two of the leaves curled up and turned black. Soon, a number of leaves turned black and curled. They began to crackle, and a small flame appeared. It was soon after that the twigs ignited, and then the logs took flame. He got more sticks, and made a pile next to a tree nearby. He retrieved his fish, and looked longingly at the flame. He had no way to put it into, or take it out of the fire. He picked up his slate knife and smiled. He's use the same thing. Harry sprinted to where he found his slate blade, and found a larger piece of the dark gray stone. He washed it in the stream, and placed it atop his fire. The water on the bottom crackled and boiled away. He watched as the damp top of the stone evaporated quickly too. He tossed on a few more sticks, to the fire, and placed one of the fillets on it. He heard it sizzle, and smiled. He may get something to eat after all. He tossed on the other fillets and let them cook awhile. 

When he could smell the fish cooking, he used two sticks to roll the pieces of flesh over. This side cooked much faster as the stone became hot. Carefully avoiding the flames, Harry removed the fish from his stone, and set them back down on the leaves. They smelled…like fish, but in this case this was a reassuring thought. Harry nibbled on a piece, and ate it thoughtfully. It was good. He liked the fish he made at 4 Privet Drive better, but this was food, nourishment, and it was what he needed, making it better than anything he could make anywhere else at any time. He greedily ate the other three fillets, and let his fire burn out. The two live fish were still in the very small puddle, and he saw the flaw in his plan. Kill only what one needs for food. He struggled with each fish as he grabbed them, picked them up and tossed them back into the mainstream, grateful for the purpose they served. Grateful for nature.

He knew it was a little self conscious, but if he appeared from the forest bloody, dirty, and smelling like fish, there may be trouble. Harry smelled his shirt and his suspicions were confirmed. He reeked, horribly. He took of all his clothes minus his boxers, and walked into the center of the stream. The force of the water was strong, considering it was raining the night before, but he held his clothes tightly as he sat in the water, which came up to his shoulders. He shivered, as the water was cold and piercing. He forced himself not to shiver, but felt his chest muscles begin to spasm. It kind of tickled. He took one article of clothing at a time, and rubbed them roughly with his hands underwater, before returning them under his legs to stop them from floating away. Walking out of the woods in his boxers would be rather humiliating.  Gathering his garments, Harry trudged out of the water, and hung them on tree limbs to dry, and began to analyze the problem of getting out of the forest.

He honestly had no conception of where he was. He didn't bother looking to see where he was going, but began to wonder about how he would get here. He probably ran in a direction chosen subconsciously, so where, deep down inside, would he go if he was scared? Home. He didn't know where his old home was so that was out of the question. Two months ago he would have said Hogwarts, but he knew he didn't want to go there any longer, so he doubted it was there. It had to be the Weasley's, or the Grangers. But which would it be? He thought to check for footprints, but abandoned the thought quickly realizing the rain would have concealed any. He had moved a distance from his slumbering tree anyways, and did not feel like back tracking. 

Thinking realistically, he couldn't be that far from civilization. He wasn't in the woods of Scotland, in the middle of nowhere. If he went in one direction long enough, he would surely come across a highway or road of some sorts soon enough. With that thought he threw on his damp but not saturated shirt and shorts, and picked up his socks and shoes. He trekked across the cool stream, and took one last slurp from it once he reached the far shore. He, for one last time, marveled at its flowing beauty; its true life, and he turned away and put on his shoes, shoving his soggy socks into his pocket. He didn't want blisters on his feet. 

He moved quickly through the woods, no longer marveling at the greenery or the flowers. He was worried if he became too attached to this restriction-less life, that he'd never return to where he was "needed." 

"_Harry._" Harry stopped his walking at the familiar voice in his head. He hadn't gone too far, he supposed, in the last fifteen minutes of walking, but the time wasted in taking a short brake could be sacrificed.

"Yes Headmaster?" Harry said, knowing his words would find their way through.

"_You did not contact me last night about your visions, and I supposed you chose to wait until morning._" A sudden thought struck Harry. He didn't see Voldemort wake up, he didn't see people die, he didn't see young girls hopelessly ra…tortured. The thought was very enlightening, like tons of lead was extracted from his blood, leaving him revitalized and happy. For the first time in a long time he had a moment of happiness, which only increased the happiness of his train of thought.

"Actually, sir, I didn't have one."

"_Pardon me?_"

"I didn't have a vision last night, and I don't know why. Maybe he died? No that would be too easy…he could have not woken up, maybe that was it, or maybe I subconsciously subdued it, or maybe the forest protected me…" he trailed of rambling like Hermione did when something curious happened. He felt a power, a force in the forest, but he never thought to attribute it to magic. Maybe it was something older and more powerful than magic, but once again, he felt increasing gratitude, even if it wasn't due.

"_Are you positive?_"

"Of course I'm positive, I always call you after my visions, and I don't forget them easily. Wow, this is incredible. Thank god! Finally! Do you know how long I wished for this to happen!?!?"

"_I understand your contentment, but I must ask you one last time, did you have a vision since we last spoke?_"

"No, I did not." Harry said, slowly descending from the clouds.

"_I do not know why, but this worries me greatly. I will speak with you soon, unless you have another vision. I ask that you contact me immediately._"

"Yes, sir." Harry felt the connection die, and the smile returned to his face. He couldn't help but hope he was free from the terrible pictures forever. Maybe he just wished them away? He was trying to look at every possible explanation, each more radical than the previous, but he was enjoying it. Today was a sunny warm day, and he was rested, ready to take on anything.

He marched for another thirty minutes before he heard the distinct sound of car motors. He stumbled forward, and came across a busy highway with a lot of traffic. It was still early in the day and he supposed it was rush hour. He looked at the sun and followed the road eastward until he saw a quiet town nearby. He began to jog, and stopped a man in an expensive luxury car as he pulled onto the entrance ramp to the road. The man cautiously lowered his window a few inches and eyed Harry warily.

"Sorry to bother you sir, but I lost my way and I need to get home, can you please tell me how far it is to Surrey, and in which direction?" The man eyed Harry closely again. He had very dark brown hair and hazel eyes.

"Go farther east on this road. It'll bend south and should take you close to Surrey, maybe twenty, twenty five kilometers." Harry smiled warmly at the man, and turned to walk away after saying 'thank you.' "Hey, kid. Why didn't you ask for a ride?" Harry pondered this, as he turned around to face the guy, who now had two cars stuck behind him.

"I didn't want to trouble you. You already told me where to go, and that is all I needed."

"Get in." He said resignedly, as if he knew he was going to regret it, but the kid was so polite and asked for so little, he couldn't refuse to help him. 

Harry hesitated, before saying many more 'thank yous' and sliding into the passenger side of the car. He liked the leather seat. It was very comfortable, and smelled new. Harry notice when they accelerated, the car went all the way up to 5000 rpm before shifting, a tell-tale sign of a transmission problem. He watched the tachometer closely, trying to find the problem.

"Where you coming from, that you lost your way?" The man asked.

"Iya, got lost in the woods back there, and need to get home." Harry responded casually, like it was everyday people got lost in the woods.

"What were you doing in the woods in the first place?" A very good question, which Harry wasn't keen on answering.

"Actually, I'm not so sure myself." The man looked questioningly at Harry but returned his eyes to the road.

"What about your parents, won't they come looking for you?"

"They're dead." There was only the quiet hum of the engine.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"'t's ok, I never really knew them, I was one at the time. Got hit by a drunk driver."

"I'm sorry." The man said sincerely this time. "I was in a drunk driving accident once, but I was the drunk driver. Hit a school bus. Empty, thank god. No one was hurt, but I couldn't help thinking that if there were kids on the bus, I may be responsible for someone's life." Harry didn't respond. "I never drank a drop again. Not even at my wedding." Harry really didn't have anything to say to that.

"So, you're married then?"

"Yes, for eight years. I have a wonderful boy of five, and a two year old girl. I don't usually pick…people up, but your eyes look so much like my kids, that I was inclined to do it."

"Thank you for that. You made my life much easier."

"My pleasure…………say, if you're parents are, you know, who do you live with?"

"My Aunt and Uncle, and cousin. They all despise me because my aunt hated my mother. They are really terrible people, but my uncle's getting better."

"It can't be too bad."

"Try spending ten years of your life living in a cupboard. It was pretty bad." The man glanced once more at Harry, to see if he was lying. From what he could tell, the kid wasn't, and all of a sudden, wanted to change the subject.

"So, do you follow football?" the man said. Harry bit his lip.

"No, I haven't seen a game on the tele since I was eleven." There was more silence as the trees and buildings flashed by, and Harry watched them, his heart begging to go back, to be where he belonged, where he wasn't the boy who lived, where he wasn't famous or rich admired or hated, to go back where he was…where he was who he was, nothing more, and nothing less. No expectations, no corruption, no power. No wonder the human race was destroying the world, we had drifted too far from it. Harry felt a bump in the ride and it awakened him from his thoughts. The car was slowing down, and pulling off the highway. He had a general idea where he was, not too far from the Dursley's place, a sort of reassuring thought. The car came to a stop in from of _Gregory's Hardware_. Harry looked at the man, who sent him an unsure smile.

"Thank you sir, more than I can put into words, thank you."

"You're welcome kid, take care of yourself."

"I'll try my best. Oh! You may want to check where your transmission fluid is at, I think you make be running low." Harry shut the door and the car pulled away. '_Take care of yourself._' The words were oddly powerful, even when said in a casual way. '_Take care of yourself._' He frowned. If only he could take care of himself, he would, but he was not given that benefit, unless there was a miracle, or Voldemort died, Harry would never be able to take care of himself. 

So Harry continued his journey. He jogged a dozen or so blocks before turning right and going four more. Finally, he turned onto Privet drive, and up to the front door. He noticed the Cadillac was gone from the garage, so Vernon wasn't home. Maybe he was at work, Harry really didn't know what day it was. He tried to enter the front door, but found it locked. He tapped the door lightly, not really wanting to aggravate anyone who was home. He saw the blinds in his Aunt and Uncle's room move, but no one came to the door. Just his luck. He walked around the house to the backyard and tried the patio door. It too was locked. If he only brought his wand life would be so much easier. He could just picture Aunt Petunia smugly laughing at him from inside. It  boiled his blood to know that she was just so cruel.

There was a loud rumbling behind him, and fearing the worst he twirled around to face any adversaries. There was a line of very dark clouds making there way quickly towards Surrey. Summer storms could brew quickly, and strike even more quickly. He leaned against the back door and stared at the rapidly moving clouds. He wondered what would happen if he flew his broom that high, all the way into the clouds when it was raining. Did it rain inside clouds? He would have to read a few books. Hermione would help him get some.  He kept watching the clouds as they stampeded across the sky. Lighting was flashing within them, and the sound was loud and intimidating. He wondered if a storm that violent could be conjured by magic, and why lighting was so loud even when it didn't hit the ground. What was making the noise? On second thought, he didn't want to know if Voldemort could make a storm, it was too scary to think about. He could hear sirens in the distance as more lighting streaked across the sky, and he could begin to hear the rain a distance away. 

If only he could use magic to open the bloody door. He _was_ able to start a fire without a wand, and '_Incendio_' isn't all that easy _with_ a wand. 'Alohamora,' however, required full magic to do it. There were no stages of the unlocking charm. With the fire spell, you could get heat, then a spark, and if you practiced enough you could get a flame, but the unlocking charm? It was all or nothing.

"_At least you should try_" his mind told him. Right, all he had to do was focus. People could do wandless magic rather consistently. He'd done wandless magic before so he could do it, all he had to do was focus. Focus. 

"_ALOHAMORA_" He yelled as the rain began to sprinkle onto his head. Lightning flashed out of the sky and struck a few blocks away. He did not want to be out in this storm. 

**CRACK**. The lightning struck  a little closer, and he saw all the lights go out in the neighbors house, as well as the Dursley's. So power was out. Harry put his hand on the doorknob and once again shouted the incantation as lightning struck a satellite dish on the roof of the house next to Mrs. Figg's. 

"Focus dammit!" he shouted to himself as the downpour began. There was something wrong with the rain though. It wasn't that it appeared or smelled off, but he sensed an artificiality to it. A hidden power. It made him uneasy, and he suddenly got the strong desire to sleep. '_Fight it_' his mind said, he closed his eyes and put his hands on his now wet temples. He focused as much as he could, willing the door to open. He was about to say the word when he heard a soft click and opened his eyes to see an open door, leading into a dark house. On a whim brought about by an odd sensation, Harry looked up just in time to see it. The lightning came crashing down at him, and he felt it strike him. But he was still standing, and the lightning engulfed him, as though it couldn't touch him. For ten second he would estimate it was on him, until it very slowly, for lightning, receded back to the clouds. A sudden pain in his forehead explained everything. Dumbledore was right to worry when Harry didn't have a vision. Voldemort had been busy. But, once again, Harry was untouchable. He felt the warm blood trickle from his scabbed forehead and walked into the house, shutting the door before rinsing his scar in the bathroom. This event gave him a lot to think about. He was being protected by something; the lightning, the arrow, something was going on. He had to find out, but now he had information to go on. All he needed was the right resource. He would just have to go to work tomorrow.

I am so incredibly sorry this is out so late. I had a really good and valid excuse like, three weeks ago, but then I just lost my motivation. I am getting it back and hope to update regularly again. This is a short chapter, but I was kinda stuck. I am really really sorry everyone.


	17. Violence, Oh the Violence

Harry wiped the sweat from his brow as he crouched near an open box, filled with hundreds of transfiguration books for first, second and third year students. He silently cursed the magical community for never inventing a spell to shelve books. It's not that Harry didn't like what he was doing, but right now he'd rather be reading the books, doing research, or even scrolling through the magazines and smaller publications. Anything to quell his relenting thoughts and fanciful explanations of why lighting didn't hurt him, why an arrow couldn't pierce him. The bell of the door announced the arrival of a new customer. It was a little early for those who preferred to sleep on weekends to be shopping for books. Quiet footsteps followed the person as they walked up next to Harry. He glanced to his left and upon seeing a black skirt and a hand holding a letter on which he read words such as "Hogwarts," "Fifth years," "Dragonhide Gloves" and other such rarities, he calculated everything very quickly.

"Transfiguration is three shelves up. Potions is along the back wall, second shelf. Herbology is in aisle four, second case, fourth shelf. Astronomy is in aisle eight, first case, top shelf, I'll assist you if you need it. The books on magical creatures are all of aisle nine. Your charms book is in aisle three, fourth case, third shelf. The books for the advanced studies classes are chiefly along the wall near the front display." He finished as he kept shelving books, resisting looking back over at the not moving pair of legs so near to him. He sighed before continuing. "Is there anything else, miss?" He said, not trying too hard to conceal his agitation.

"I was just looking for a friend of mine. I know he got a job here this summer, but I don't know if or when he's here, so, ummmm, can you tell me – "

"Does he have a name?" He saw her shift the weight of her legs from the corner of his eyes.

"Yes, but he may not be using it. I really don't know if you would know him as I do." He sighed audibly. This one was obviously a twit.

"Is it James, Mark, Spencer, Rodriguez, Timothy, Rick, Shelly, Sally, or Joe?"

"No, It's, um, well it's kinda like, Harry Potter." His gaze jolted up to the before unseen face of the nice legged individual who somehow knew of his employment, but didn't recognize him. He blushed for a second, remembering his thoughts from before he knew who it was, but he quickly controlled himself enough to look her in the eyes.

"Oh, hello Hermione. Why are you here?" He said trying to show happiness. She looked oddly at him.

"Is Harry here?" She said slowly. He rolled his eyes and returned them to her.

"Funny, real funny. So what do you want?" She slowly drew her wand, and he looked at her quizzically.

"Who are you?" She said with growing frustration. This only confused him more.

"You didn't drink any random potions, did you?" he asked. She only stared at him threateningly. Sensing her extreme intensity, he purposely made a sudden movement. She whipped up her wand and screamed "s_tupefy" at him. He saw her raising her wand, and following a natural reaction, drew his wand in a split second, with plenty of time to deflect her curse. "What in bloody hell is wrong with you!?!? Are you ill!?!?" He yelled at her stiff form in an oddly enticing defensive stance in a short skirt. He was debating whether to curse her or alert her parents. Maybe both. He stepped back and lowered his wand. "Hermione, calm down. Tell me what's going on." She only stared at him for a short while longer. He grew impatient and slipped his wand back into the wrist holster she gave him for his birthday. She sensed his lowering guard, and threw a body-binding curse at him. He dodged it and redrew his wand. "What in bloody hell – " She threw a disarming spell at him as he dove behind a book shelf. As far as he could tell she'd lost her marbles and was not sending her spells around in a friendly manner. If she wasn't stopped soon, there'd be trouble. _

He quickly rubbed his wand between his hand to increased his reactions and agility in his fingers. He was about to step out from behind the book shelf when the cap popped off his wand revealing the phoenix feather inside. He let out a loud moan, and returned to his senses as another disarming spell came around the corner. It seemed that he kept being left in situations where his wand was not with him, or not working. This had forced him to do some simple wandless magic, but the advanced blocks and spells he'd need were out of the question. 

With a sudden decision, he grabbed the biggest book on the shelf behind him and threw it over the partition between his aisle and the one she was in. He sprinted around the end of the aisle to see her turn sharply to him and raise her wand. The distraction had worked and she was too late, her tackled her firmly in her lower torso, driving her into the ground. She landed with an _umph and he snatched her wand from her hands. She had genuine fear and shock in her eyes. He pinned her effectively and tossed her wand thirty feet down the aisle._

His adrenaline pumping hard he summed up his most firm voice and gasped "What is wrong with you?" She struggled relentlessly from his grasp, as tears condensed in her eyes. He felt pity for her, but he had to look out for his own welfare. 

A sharp pain between his legs rudely proclaimed the arrival of her knee to the mentioned area. He instinctively slid off of her and she dashed, half running, half crawling to her wand. He saw the potential danger but was in no condition to move. He extended his hand toward her wand and wished beyond anything to have that wand come to him. He even enacted it in his mind, having her wand come to him. As she pounced on the wooden stick it moved eight inches towards Harry, ending up near her stomach. Both Harry and Hermione looked at it in total alarm. The wand apparently moved by itself. Harry cut his awesome admiration of himself short and tried to acquire her wand again with increased concentration. Harry followed the artifact with his awestruck eyes as it came to his hand with the speed a reluctant child cleans his room. Once the wand entered his hand, he looked up to the girl who was now sitting with her shoulder against the bookshelf. She raised her hands as if a police officer pointed a gun at her. Harry couldn't tell who was more astounded.

Taking slow deep breaths, he asked "Are you finished?" before tossing the wand back to her. He thought she said she was done, but with minimal hesitation she shot a fire spell at him. Harry rolled to the side just as the book behind him burst into flames. She proceeded to throw fire until he found shelter behind the purchase counter of the store. He found a strange orb, and guessing it was for a defensive purpose, snatched it and jumped up to throw it, hoping for any sort of reaction from it.

Judging from the severe change in color from her face, being from bright red to ghostly white, she knew what the orb was, and/or what it did. The fact that it scared her was no consolation to Harry. The orb froze above her, and exploded like a grenade sending a pulse of magical energy through the store. Her wand, his wand, and various magical objects in the store were rapidly sucked into the orb, until it glowed and fell heavily to the floor, not even bouncing a little.

Hermione dove for the orb, and upon grabbing it, tried to open it desperately with her hands. Harry noticed the smoke coming from the books he was near earlier, and knew that it would not be good to let a bookstore burn. He grabbed a random jacket off the hooks in the back hallway, ran to the bathroom and saturated it under the shrieking faucet, and jumped the counter, sprinting to where the smoke was coming from. He threw the jacket down on the flame, then pushed it against the enflamed bookshelf, suffocating the fire one jacket size at a time. He lost no time in retracing his steps back to where Hermione was.

Hermione had not physically given up on opening the orb, but her flowing tears alluded to a mental breakdown of sorts. I her hysterics, she threw the orb at one of the bookshelves, and it rebounded towards Harry. It bounced by him, but he gave chase, stopping it with his foot. For the moment he just stared at it, trying to figure out its purpose.

"What is it?" He asked firmly, knowing that only throught fear could he get her to respond.

"Anencasementmnt_chrm_tks_dkfj_" She began mumbling.

"What was that?" He said again

"It's an encasement orb. It's charmed so that it collects everything magical in a room. It locks it up and only the person who set the spell can get everything out." She was now standing behind him. He bent over and picked it up, feeling a shock, similar but stronger than static electricity. He turned to her and she fell backwards, hitting her head on a bookshelf.

"Are you on drugs?" He just had to ask as she rubbed the back of her head violently.

"No." she answered

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Positive?"

"YES!!!"

"Fine" He said, trying to minimize any offense.

"You _are Harry." She said after slight hesitation._

"You noticed? What in bloody hell is wrong with you?"

"WELL, you didn't LOOK like him." She retorted.

"How can I not look like myself!?!?"

"Your hair and eyes changed color!"

"Barely, I still looked like me."

"You were missing your scar." She exclaimed in conclusive tone.

"After four years of CLOSE friendship, you still identify me only by my scar? What is wrong with you? These are not an excuse to attack me at work!!!"

"They are if I never wanted you to change!!!" The silence that fell was heavy and awkward.

"It's already too late for sentimentality about the "old" Harry. I am changed, whether anyone likes it or not. That's something each person will have to deal with on their own, including you Hermione. You of all people should know that. I have stuff to do, and I would appreciate it if you let me do them in peace."

"What stuff?"

"I have to get the crap out of the orb, put it all back. I have to replace the shelf _you set on fire, and the books which __you burned, and I have to do this before I go home in under two hours. I have to leave at eleven, I have an important appointment. So do you mind?"_

"What about my wand?" She asked shamefully. 

"I'll see that you get it before you take the express in, three days is it?" She nodded, and he took the liberty of guiding her out of the door as an aged witch entered. The old lady looked around and wrinkled her nose.

"It smells like smoke" she stated in a contemptible voice. Harry gave Hermione on last push out of the door before responding.

"Yeah, well, two books got in a fight, and when the "_Fun with Fire" book tried to break it up, it got a little messy." Hermione turned to see the old woman nod understandingly to whatever Harry had said. She found great interest in the ground as she walked slowly towards the Leaky Cauldron, where a large fire pit was awaiting her for her journey home._

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            Harry froze; he suddenly lost all will to move. Of course the massage was excellent. He felt relaxed, loose, and even a little energetic. But Of course he had to have a college years masseuse with a perfect figure. She was more than slightly arousing, and he wasn't prepared to announce his attraction to her to the world.

"We're done Mr. Potter. I have another appointment now, so you have to go."

"Can you just give me a minute?" he moaned to her.

"Fine, just don't be too long. Some of my other customers take forever to get up." A very disgusting image crossed his mind and in seconds he was back to normalcy. He rose slowly, making sure he kept his towel up around him. He forced himself to think of Malfoy every time he looked at her. She was wearing all white, and was relaxing in a plastic chair near the door, waiting for him to leave. He drew his wallet from his pants, and slipped a twenty pound note to her. She looked at it for a second, before turning her attention to him.

"You don't have to tip me." She said reluctantly.

"I know that, but I feel you deserve it. It was a very, refreshing experience." She greedily snatched the note, and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"How old are you?" she asked.

"Fifteen."

"Oh, you're a sweety, you are." She chimed as he left the room blushing ferociously. He arrived at his changing room, and addressed his attire, before tossing the towel into the cart and walking out of _Daphne's Spa and Clinic. Being only a dozen blocks away from the Leaky Cauldron, he decided to stop by for a butterbeer. Nothing like a butterbeer to enhance one's mood. He jumped on his Harley, and sped off into the darkening afternoon. The dark clouds were lazily drifting eastwards, shading the sun from view._

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

It was another cloudy day. There were just too many of them. Harry rolled out of his bed. A package with an engraved flame sat on his desk. He groaned and staggered over to it. It was roughly the size of a shoe box, but seemed securely taped and packaged. He suspiciously picked it up and noted it's weight. He went back to his memories, trying to figure out what would be delivered. He wasn't expecting any pay for any potions, nor was he expecting a book. Giving up he opened the package to find a clear glass container with what appeared to be a white cylinder of something in it. He also saw a bubble at the top of the glass container. So there was a clear fluid in it to. He read the sticker. 

****

****

**_Warning: Contents packaged in Kerosene. Kerosene is both extremely flammable and explosive. Fumes are flammable as well. Keep clear of sparks, heat, and flame at all times._**

That's always a pleasant thing to read in the morning. He groggily wiped his eyes and looked at the other, bigger sticker on the glass container.

****

**_Warning: Sodium is a highly reactive metal. Wear goggles and protective garments at all time when handling Sodium. Store Sodium only in kerosene. DO NOT STORE IN WATER. For professional uses only. In case of injury, seek medical assistance immediately._**

"Ahhh" it dawned on him. "That's what it is. Only…" he checked his watch, followed by his calendar. "Two weeks late." He sighed and snatched latex gloves he'd "borrowed" from his aunt. He put his hand in and pulled the six inch long, four inch diameter cylinder of what appeared to be a white plastic. Only it weighed a lot. He didn't expect the sodium to be white either. He placed the bar on his desk, and made and attempt to pull off a piece. It was useless so he tried using the blade of his scissors. That was futile as well. Not willing to waste any more time he used his wand to cut a sliver off the top of the cylinder. He was surprised to see that inside it's shell, sodium was metallic like in luster and color. He used his scissor this time to cut a small chip from the sliver he had. Satisfied, he placed the piece on his dresser until he was properly dressed. 

He had already finished concocting the potion he needed the pure sodium for, so he could have fun with the large quatity he now had. The words "**_DO NOT STORE IN WATER" were fresh as ever in his mind. He simply had to see what happened when it was put in water. Of course his curiosity was purely scientific. With an evil smirk painted on his face, he grabbed a small bucket from the downstairs closet, filled it with water, and placed it in the center of the quiet Privet Drive. He took aim from two meters away and tossed the piece with a low arch towards the bucket. It fell in the yellow plastic container. Harry watched closely. A puff of steam moved fluidly over the surface of the water, before a loud pop send Harry jumping backwards. A cloud of steam and a shower of sparks appeared only one second after being put in. The ferocity of the water in the bucket cause it to tip. Spilling out the rest of the water. Harry watched as the sparks continued to dance along the street within a few feet of the bucket._**

He remebered he had an entire bar of the same stuff. Harry procured an evil smile even Malfoy would have trouble duplicating. He picked up the bucket and returned it to the closet before entering the kitchen and handing Aunt Petunia her gloves. She didn't even ask about the smell on them. 

"Harry, you hear anything while you were outside?" Asked the slimmer Uncle Vernon.

"You mean the pop?" Harry responded amiably. Vernon nodded with short sharp nods, having the loose flesh on his face shake as well. 

"Do you know what it was?" his uncle asked.

"Yup." Harry responded while exiting the kitchen. "And that was only a sliver."


	18. Saying Goodbye

            He checked once more to confirm that he did indeed carry the parcels he desired. So September first had finally made it and everyone would be going back to Hogwarts. Hogwarts. He probably had the most fun in his life there. But he knew more than anyone that his innocence was gone. Even if most people didn't think he had killed Cedric, no one would immediately dispel, other than perhaps Hadgrid. He could even see that before Snape could confirm it to Dumbledore, Dumbledore still suspected him. But that was only to be suspected. He supposed it was just bitter irony that the night before, a young squib named Cedric was killed. Too many deaths. Now he finally understood why old aurors were so calm and unmoved by exciting events. Too much excitement in their lives, too much horrid things. Too much blood, too much bone, too much ash upon the stones. An auror had said that once as the reason for his early retirement. Harry never thought he'd go for the "easy" way out. There was no easy way out. He probably deserved it anyway. 

            He turned his head and watched as bundles of people passed through the stone pillar onto Platform 9 & ¾ . In minutes they would be greeting each other on the train ride to school. He would be counting his sacks of money and probably take a trip to Gringotts to deposit it. 

He made sure his face was hidden from view as he passed through the barrier. He only had to see a few people before he would leave. They would demand reasons. He would give them none. They wouldn't understand anyway. He needed a holiday. A very long holiday. And he didn't plan on returning.* But that wouldn't stop him. He had to admit he was becoming good at brushing people off. Probably because of his experiences with Malfoy.

A familiar patch of red hair commanded his attention, and he weaved slowly through the throng of excited students and weeping parents. As he approached the young man from behind, he was cut off by a blond haired boy with and evil smirk.

"Trying to hide from what you did, ehh, Potter? We all make, how do you say it? Mistakes? I'm sure everyone would love to know you've arrived. Why don't I – " A hard wooden object swung out of Harry's cloak and into the stomach of none other than Draco Malfoy. 

"Your broom, Malfoy. I do prefer my Firebolt, but I'm afraid I needed to borrow yours. It seems an incompetent Death Eater couldn't prevent me either. You know, I could tell a lot of people about the recent activities at your mansion. Or are you willing to shut your mouth, and walk away?"

The blonde haired boy sniggered and marched away. The look on his face spoke only of revenge. Harry noticed Hermione standing next to Ron, tapping her foot anxiously and checking her watch every two seconds. It was fun to watch. He stepped in front of them, and was surprised to see that they didn't even recognize him. He slipped a wand from his pocket and slowly inserted it into the girl's hand. She finally looked up and did a double-take. 

"HARRY! Where in the Sahara have you been?!?! We've been waiting forever!" He made it obvious that he cleaned his ear out with a finger.

"Thank you for the lecture. I expect I'll get another by the time you go. So Ron, how's the family?" Ron cracked an unsure smile.

"Sorry you couldn't visit this summer mate. We would have had a blast. Gred and Forge were impossible as usual. The created so many new things…Mum wants us to keep an eye on Ginny. She's gunna be sought after. I can't believe that Fred and George are in their last year, and Mum told them –" 

"Wait a moment!" cried Hermione, "What do you mean, by the time I go? Where am I going?" Ron immediately assumed the confused puppy face. 

"To Hogwarts?" Ron said slowly, trying to emphasize the obvious. Harry nodded when she looked towards him. 

"Then where are _you going?" She said pointedly at Harry. _

Harry assumed a sentimental tone, looked into the distance and said very quietly, "home." This seemed to satisfy her, and she quieted down enough for them to hear a loud feminine voice yelling something to the effect of "Get your bloody hands off me!" Ron nearly fell as Harry pushed by him and strode quickly towards the train. Hermione quickly sidestepped Ron as he staggered and ran to catch up to Harry. A circle had formed. In the center Ginny was being held against the Hogwarts express by Draco Malfoy. He was asking, what he so pleasantly titled "the muggle-loving bitch" for a kiss, and despite her struggles, he was too strong for her. 

Harry never held back. Despite his short stature, his bony hand landed with a crack on Malfoy's jaw with such force that he fell and hit the ground long before his teeth did. Blood was splattered on Ginny's face and on the side of the train. Parents who had been rushing over to the center of the commotion halted when they saw who was there.

"You have some balls Potter," Malfoy began, "assaulting me, when you know that you killed Diggory." Malfoy took advantage of Harry's hesitation and got unsteadily to his feet. Harry broke through his hesitation and used the same tactic Hermione had use on him the previous day. Malfoy let out a girlish squeal, grabbed himself and fell back to the ground.

"I may have balls, Malfoy, but hopefully now, for the sake of all of us, you no longer do." By now, Ron had caught up and was leading Ginny from the semi-circle while Hermione wiped the blood from her face. "If you ever touch her or anyone else ever again, I swear on the graves of my parents, and on my own life, that I will not rest until you suffer tenfold what I have seen in my life." Harry turned away and walked along the edge of the platform to meet up with Ginny, Hermione, and a throng of Weasleys. He was approximately eighty feet away when he heard it. The swearing under the breath. The insults sent toward the Weasley's. Without thinking, purely on instinct he turned and threw a Galleon. The circular disc was thrown too far to the right but it maintained it's spin and slope, until at the last second it dove with it's slope and nailed Malfoy an inch over his right eyes, sending another crack echoing through the platform. Malfoy collapsed unconscious, and Harry turned his attention to Hermione whose eyes were boring into him like a drill press. 

"How is she?" He asked as he returned his demeanor to that of a totally unemotional being. She looked like she wanted to say something else.

"She's was frightened, but she'll be fine." Hermione was going to say something else but the whistle blew alerting everyone the train was departing in one minute. Everyone started moving towards the train. Hermione turned as she walked away from him and asked "Aren't you coming?" She could tell from the blankness of his face he wasn't. She let out a gasp of shock. She couldn't hide her deepest pain at this realization. Before she could start yell or crying, whatever the rush of rage and frustration would have her do. But he spoke first.

"Don't, I know what you're going to say, but I don't have the time or the effort to explain my decision to you. If it's comforting at all you can remind yourself that Dumbledore supports my decision. You don't see that if I went back, I'd only end up just like Riddle. You don't see that I would end up betraying you, and even someday perhaps killing you. I made this decision with everyone's well-being in mind. So don't, just don't. It's already done, and you'll only make it harder on yourself. I'll owl you shortly after you arrive, just to check in. I am not leaving you, I am saving everyone, as well as myself. What I am going to do now, is quietly walk away. All I can ask of you, is to forget about me, get on the train, and don't look back. Dwelling in the past makes the future vulnerable. Good-Bye Hermione, I'll see you soon, and I'll be sure to visit." He leaned in and gave her a hug, which she was too shocked to return. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and glided away until he was hidden in the crowd of parents, as the train gave it's last hoot. She ran to get on, and felt the train lurch a second after her feet landed. In a dull silence she meandered checking every compartment for Ron and Ginny. Near the back she found them with Fred and George.

"Where's –"

"Harry?" Said George, then Fred.

"He's not coming." This brought Ginny very quickly out of her sniffles, and they returned in full force while she blamed herself that Harry wasn't coming. Hermione was seated and surrounded until she told them absolutely everything she knew. Ron was socked to the pointed of disbelief, Fred and George wanted to know more about this weird thing called "marijuana", Hermione was deep in a sulking, and Ginny was crying softly as she curled herself up in a corner. Time passed, and Fred and George went to speak with friends, Ginny fell asleep, and Ron was fidgeting. Finally he looked up at her and was slightly surprised to see her looking at him. He seemed to be deciding whether to do something or not. Finally he began.

"Hermione, can we talk about something?"

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ 

*Adapted from Lord of the Rings. The best book ever written. Credit to J.R.R.Tolkien.

I'm not going to bother you with excuses, and yes Stoneheart, I have returned from the dead. I will only give you my explanation if you people tell me you want one for peace of mind. We can all be happy now, because I got accepted into 2 colleges so far. YAY! I'd appreciate reviews, and I'd appreciate flames. But no use asking, If you aren't going to review then you're not going to review. No point of megetting riled up about it. By the way, Happy New Year everyone.


	19. Deeds and Creeds

            "…ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred…" Harry put a small tally mark on a piece of paper. He started again at zero and stopped at thirty four, which he scribbled down as well. He counted his tallies, a total of thirteen tallies and a number thirty four. In other words, he just counted one thousand, three hundred and thirty four galleons. He would have had one more but it had been lost after colliding with the skull of a certain fifteen year old Slytherin. Harry had received a letter from Hermione saying that Malfoy had a major concussion, and luckily had no brain damage. Also that if Draco hadn't so obviously harassed Ginny, the Malfoy's would have taken him to wizard court. As if it wasn't already obvious. 

            Harry glanced over the letter Hermione sent once more. Her words seemed so much more conservative an vague when talking about Ron. Something was going on, and he could only think of two things. 

            He checked his watch. There was a portkey going from Diagon Alley to Hogsmeade in thirty minutes. He had just enough time to stop by at Gringotts. Placing all of the thousands of coins into a sack, and making it feather light. He put on his cloak, sheathed his wand, and grabbed a pinch of floo powder before trekking downstairs. He saw his aunt watching the tele in the living room and ventured to inform her of his activities. 

"I'm going now, and I won't be back until at least tomorrow, and perhaps longer. I don't expect you'll miss me, but I felt you should know so you don't think I'm dead and rotting in my room." He was surprised at his own cheerfulness, but decided it was not worth dwelling on. He threw a pinch into the fireplace and stared at it. He knew he could do this. Floo powder was extremely flammable and it only required a spark. He was able to do it before with his hand, and his hand was only an extension of his body. So, he should be able to make it ignite with pure power of will……………He supposed he looked like the bearded guy in that movie he saw on the tele once. Superman, was it? The evil guy who couldn't shoot the lasers out of his eyes. He probably looked the same way, but he had no more time to waste. He flick his wand into his hand and ignited it manually. He stepped in and shouted _Gringotts before the familiar spinning took him on his journey. _

He was happy that he didn't fall when he exited the floo, and equally happy to see that Gringotts was empty of patrons, giving him access to speedy service. He moved up to the nearest counter. The goblin looked kindly at him.

"My name is Pottel, how may I help you today?" Harry almost confused the goblin's name for his own. 

"I have a little over thirteen hundred galleons to deposit. All but two hundred of which go to my personal account. The others go to vault 6897 with this note." Harry placed his sack on the table, and handed the note to the goblin.

"Following rule 372-142, you understand you must read this note before it is deemed credible to be put in the vault, and that once your money goes in that vault, it may not be withdrawn by you. You may only withdraw from your own vault." Harry nodded and opened the note.

"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,

You may not know me, but one or more of your family members unknowingly helped me greatly on one of my business endeavors. I feel, therefore, obligated to share one sixth of all profits with your family. I will not reveal my identity, simply, because I have learned from others that you do not accept charity, which you may claim this to be, when it certainly is not. Aid from your family has increased my wealth, so I am to increase yours. Have an enjoyable autumn.

                        A friend." Harry folded the note and handed it back to the goblin who read it just in case anything was not consistent with his words. Upon nodding the goblin put a stamp on the note, and adjusted the numbers on the counter to match the vault number of the Weasley's. He place in the note, and counted and placed two hundred galleons in a slot in his desk. Then quickly changed the vault number to Harry's vault, before dumping the rest of the contents of the bag into the same slot. The goblin turned to Harry.

"Anything else sir." Harry shook his head, and wandered out of Gringotts, onto the heavily crowded streets of Diagon Alley. He dodged and squeezed his way over to the fountain, until he found a pink orb sitting on the edge. He fished into his pockets and put twelve sickles into the orb. It flashed once leaving a pink print on the pointer finger on his right hand. He assumed it was a sort of pass, so it would accept him when the time came, which would be in five minutes. 

He sat alone and watched the people walk by until the orb started flashing once a second. He assumed it meant it was ready to go and placed his finger on it. After a few seconds a flood of people circled around and placed in their money, and touching it with their fingers. He was wondering why they all waited until the last second. He was the only one at the orb until ten seconds before it worked, when seven other people joined in.

With a familiar tug, Harry was flying over trees, hills, towns, until quite suddenly, it stopped and he and four others fell down. All the others separated and without a word wandered in their own direction. Upon looking around, Harry realized he was lost. He took the portkey to Hogsmeade, but he had never been in this part of Hogsmeade before. He was going to venture to wander around until a train whistle caught his attention. He guessed where it cam from and started jogging in that direction. As he rounded a corner, he could see the spires of Hogwarts school. Finally knowing for sure where to go, he just followed his eyes, and shortly came upon the gates. They were so familiar. It felt good to be back. This used to be his home. The sentiments came in a large wave, almost drowning him into tears. He held back his emotion. There was business to take care of first. He walked up the path to the school letting his feet take him where they would. He was not so surprised when he ended up on the quidditch pitch, very near the spot where Cedric Diggory and himself would be changed forever. He knelt down and placed a very inconspicuous, round stone on the ground. He sighed heavily, and walked solemnly towards the castle.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            A young man with greasy black hair and a hook nose fell out of the thicket, tripping on the vines that wrapped around his feet. He cut them away and got up. It was the last time he would ever agree to go back into the forbidden forest for ingredients. From now on he would by them. Let someone else trouble with getting them. The man turned to see that on the quidditch pitch was a short solitary figure, kneeling above what looked like a rock. As the figure moved away, he noticed the black messy hair of the character, and scowled. What the hell was he doing here? He had decided he was too good for the wizarding world. 

            However curiosity struck the professor, and he walked over to and picked up the stone. It was a perfectly smooth stone. Too smooth. He examine it closely until his finger felt something. He turned the rock over keeping his finger on the rough spot he felt. There were many tiny marking on the stone where his finger felt the inconsistency. Curiosity still fresh, he popped a magnifying lens out of his wand and read the tiny scrawl on the stone. 

**In memory of Cedric Diggory.**** Who was a friend when friends were few. Who was noble and modest when recognition was easy to acquire. A true person, beyond any other. Rest in peace, my friend. Harry Potter.**

**            With a apathetic look, the man tossed the stone carelessly onto the ground. He never saw the aged wizard in a white beard watching from a window in the tallest of the towers.**

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            "Mr. Potter, I'm surprised to see you here. I was told you are no longer attending Hogwarts." 

            "Hello, Madame Pince. You were told correctly. I am here only for research. I was having trouble locating a book, and I wanted to look here before I tried the ministry library." Harry responded.

            "Well, then, lets have the title." She said idly. 

            "_Powerful Potions for the Troubled Mind, or the updated and retitled __The Pscychotherapeutic Encyclopedia of Potions." She looked at him oddly._

            "Isn't that a little above your level, Mr. Potter?" He shook his head. She sighed and entered the area of books off limits to most students. "As soon as she returned, she started scribbling on a piece of parchment. "You know, Potter, that if you still _were a student at Hogwarts, I would not be able to lend you this book. It may not leave school grounds."_

            "I understand that. I must be off to see the headmaster." He sang.

            "No lunch?"

            "No," Harry said, after a short thought, "too many people." He tucked the book under his arm and slipped quietly out of the entrance. He heard the rumbling of footsteps as the fast eaters exited the great hall. He knew they would be passing by him shortly on their way to their common rooms. He would surely be seen. A group of Gryffindors rounded the corner and he halted abruptly. Upon seeing his sharp stop, the boys lifted their heads to look more closely at him. He felt very awkward quite suddenly, but ventured to break the silence. 

            "Hello Ron, Seamus, Dean, Fred, George, Lee." Harry said, forcing a small grin.

            "What happened, Harry?" asked Fred or George.

            "Yeah, did you miss the train?" asked the other.

            "You could've taken the car, you know" said the first one.

            "Blast the car, you could have taken the floo" exclaimed the second.

            "Or a portkey."

            "Or a broom."

            "Oh, bugger off!" shouted Ron at his brothers, before pushing them both forward and passed Harry. They laughed aloud with Lee Jordan, before expressing their pleasure at seeing Harry and passing on.

            "And how are you Ron?" Harry asked. Ron looked towards Seamus and Dean. "That is a question you should be able to answer on your own." Harry chortled.

            "I'm alright, I guess. It's kinda boring, when your not here. Now I know why Fred and George waste all their time on pranks." Harry nodded slowly.

            "I have an appointment with Dumbledore. I guess I'll see you later." Harry said.

            "Wait, you're staying?" asked Dean.

            "For a day or two. That's all." They all exchanged nods of farewell, and Harry continued on his way. He avoided going by the Great Hall, as more than likely most of the school was in there, and he really didn't want to see them. He arrived at the gargoyle which barred the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He didn't want to have to guess every single…Why was there a candy wrapper on the floor? He bent down and picked it up. Why would anyone eat a piece of candy here? 

A very imaginative thought struck him. It was too simple. Far too simple. So simple that it was unbelievably brilliant. He reached into his pocket and extracted a bag of Bertie Bot's Every Flavor Beans. He took a small handful and placed them carefully into the gargoyle's mouth. The stone creature started munching immediately, and stepped aside revealing the entrance. Harry felt empowered, intelligent, wise, creative, ingenious. What a brilliant Cassious Mechanism. He knew was one here. Of course there was one hear. A spoken password to enter, or any of a designated common item. The item was candy. Dumbledore really was a crazy old man. But would Voldemort ever think to use candy? "_I think not" Harry thought. He took the moving stairs three at a time and burst into the office. Dumbledore obviously wasn't expecting him to rush in, because he tossed his mug of tea in his reflex. It crashed through a display and spilt  on top of a thick book._

Dumbledore extracted his wand and cleaned up the mess with three flicks of his wand. Harry took a seat across from him and dropped the book on the desk. He sighed the refreshingly clean air, and waited in comfortable silence, a silly grin playing at the corners of his mouth. 

"What is so amusing, Mr. Potter." Harry went into a full fledged smile. 

"Getting jumpy in our old age, are we?" Dumbledore's eyes sparkled with energy. "Oh, and, I must say, candy as your Cassious Mechanism? Very inspired." 

"So you are beginning to learn my ways. Hmmm, and why would they be so important for you to know?" Harry stayed quiet while he thought about it. "Of course I do have my own theory." Harry looked at him with the eagerness of a young boy.

"And that is?" Harry pressed.

"I would not say. I do not ant to put any undue pressure on you." The old man claimed.

"I assure you I can take it." In a flash Dumbledore was leaning so very forward his eyes were merely inches from Harry. 

"I will not lie to you Harry. I do not have forsight, yet when I envision the future, I see four things. I see myself dead. I see Voldemort perished. And I see you sitting, on the other side of this desk." Harry repeated them over and over, not allowing himself to forget the words.

"You said there were four. That was only three." Harry whined.

"Alas, in time, I know you will see the fourth, but if I told you, it would expire with the very words I would use to tell you."

"So you think that someday I will become headmaster of Hogwarts?"

"Absolutely, after you are married and after your first term as Minister of Magic. You will serve your other seven consecutive terms as Minister of Magic while Headmaster. A feat even I could never accomplish. But what you will term your 'grand talent,' will allow for you to achieve many, many things."

"I thought you only saw four things."

"Yes but I can infer others." Harry exhaled a large breath, show that he conceded to end the road they were going down. "And how long will you be staying with us?" Harry looked at his watch. He couldn't believe it was Saturday. 

"Tomorrow. Probably early. I just need to copy a few things." Harry said.

"Yes, of course. Check in with me if you need anything."

"Only if I can't figure it out. Otherwise, just smile and let life have it's way."

"That reminds me of the doctrine of a man on a television show which played in the United States. I believe it was, 'Live long and prosper.' I have adopted it with one word changed." Dumbledore said suggestively.

"And that would be?"

"'Live _well and prosper.' My thought is that life isn't about age, how long you live. It is how you spend the time you are blessed with." His white whiskers swayed in a soft breeze from the window._

"I know exactly what you mean, Headmaster." Harry exclaimed

"Do you?"

"Absolutely. It means it's time for me to go to sleep."

Feels good to get a few chapters out. I know they're short. Later on I'll probably combine them, but I am working better now. I hope everyone is enjoying the story. I gladly await any reviews or flames. I'd love to hear suggestions. Even if you don't like the story, I'd like to see you write it. I rarely do personlized responses to individual reviewers, but I feel this is an occasion enough.

**David305 – I appreciate you recognizing my origniality. It becomes increasingly hard to stay original. So many people have so many good ideas, it's hard to find your own path. That is why I no longer read nearly as many fan fics as I used to. Thank you for reviewing.**

**Temporary Insanity – I won't skip years like that. This is a fifth year fic. However, we will learn a bit of Harry's life outside of Hogwarts. And between you and me (and anyone else who reads this), there is going to be a very drastic change for Harry relatively soon. Probably in the next 2 or three chapters.**

**Takeda Lee – Harry will actually start to shrink. It will become clear why in a decent amount of time. It's a while away. But in the far future, who knows? And if you think the way he beat on Malfoy was good (looks around with psychopathic grin) I think you'll like the chapters to come.**

**Stoneheart – Quite possibly my favorite reviewer. Indeed I have returned. The whole paragraph thing was because I have a, ahem, not perfectly legal, ahem, copy of Microsoft office, and it has it's share of glitches when changing formats, thought I believe I rectified the problem. The purpose of the fight in the bookstore was mentioned just afterwards. I didn't want to make it too clear, but I was trying to demonstrate Hermione desperately hanging on to the "old" Harry. She won't let him go, which also contributes to his staying away from Hogwarts. If noone will let the "old" harry go, he feels he needs to give them time to forget him, and return reinvented. It'll get more clear and confusing later on. The massage scene was misinterpreted by you. No offense intended, but he was not in the magical world at the time. It was a muggle establishment. I hope that makes it clearer for you. That purpose was to try to prove that despite his shrinking stature, he is still aging and going through the joys of puberty. Harry playing with sodium may become sybolic of his need, like any other humans, to vent. I am still debating whether to use it or not. I feel very welcomed in my return, and in all honesty, I did not feel I was so missed until I returned. In doing so, I apologize to everyone for my tardiness.**

**To everyone else, Thank you for reading, I appreciate any comments, or suggestions, and if any other Harry/Hermione shippers are out there and have stories, I'll read them. Just let me know where to go.**


	20. Alone in Misery

            There was a desperate banging on the door. He really didn't need to guess who it was. He was gueesing how long it would take for trhe person to get there. He underestimated her. He gave her thirty minutes. It was not even twenty. He closed the book, hid his parchment and meandered over to the door. He lifted the latched and opened the door with such a ferocity that the candles all blew out. A girl with honey brown hair fell forward onto the wooden floor. She was gasping violently and took more than a few second to get back to her feet. 

            "You're – here." She got out between breaths.

            "You may want to look into this new thing I've heard about. It's supposedly unbelievable." As soon as he knew he had her attention he continued. "Walking. Nothing like it. Takes you to the same place without the hassel of running." She took the liberty to sit on a chair near the floor level window. Harry returned to his work, he had hidden it just in case someone else was at the door. She appeared to slowly gain control of her breathing. He was scribbling on a long sheet of parchment. He seemed really frustrated by something. He shouted "papelious" and "camalus." His quill and parchment were replaced by a pen and a sheet of paper. Perhaps it was easier for him.

            "What are you doing?" She asked, trying to start a conversation.

            "I am not sure." 

            "You are writing _something, aren't you?" She asked. He glanced up at her._

            "Oh, oh. I thought you were asking it on a more profound level. I am taking notes."

            "On what?"

            "Potions."

            "What type."

            "Many types."

            "For what purpose?"

            "To intoxicate myself to the point of pervebial self-destruction. Why do you ask?"

            "Are you trying…thinking of killing yourself?" She said very slowly, as if she could see him bend before he would snap, and she could avoid it.

            "Not yet, but maybe in a couple months, why not? You know, you should try everything once. I tried getting killed. And as you can probably see, that was one crazy experience."

            "Don't joke about it!" She cried out. He looked up at her with dead eyes.

            "I'm not." She decided it was time to alter the subject of discussion.

            "You look sick." She said not lacking disgust in her voice.

            "Yes, mother."

            "Well, you obviously don't have a mother to tell you, so I have to." She slapped her hand over her mouth. She was panicking. She went too far. She wanted to cry, to say she was sorry, but she was in too much fear to speak. She saw him halt and softly put the pen down. His body started shaking. He was holding something in. Hopefull he wouldn't kill her. He turned to her and lifted his face. He was laughing. How could he be laughing at such a horrible thing?

            "You – that's great – you see – you think – you're my mother!" He was becoming hysterical. He couldn't hold it in. He stopped slowly. "Wait, stop picking on my or I'll tell my mommy, HERMIONE!!!" He broke down into more laughter. "Hey ma, I'm hungry, why don't you whip out a tit for me?" He was uncontrollable. He must be sick. There was no other explanation. Finally he sat back and stopped laughing while she was getting ready to cry. She was just so happy when she was told he was here. And he was treating her like, like, like she was insignificant. Maybe she was. She couldn't tell anymore. She was loosing her best friend. Or was he already lost? He was even enjoying her disgracing of his parents. He had lost all respect for everyone. He wasn't himself. He seemed like, he just didn't care anymore. He didn't care about anything.

            "I have to go" she said. She jumped up from her chair and ran from the room. She made it forty feet down the hallway until she felt a sharp sudden pain in the back of her leg. She staggered to a stop and started rubbing it forcefully. She never really had a muscle cramp before. To her utter embarasment, someone who was walking by put a vial in her hand. She looked at the person and to her full humiliatiion, Harry Potter was shaking his head slowly. 

            "It'll get rid of the cramping. I'm going to the kitchens. Have a nice afternoon." Without so much as a hint of pity, or sympathy, he just marched away, down the hall.

            So that was all she got. She runs to Dumbledore, runs to Harry, gets a less than satisfactory welcome, disrespects his parents, gets insulted by a lack of anger, runs away, and this is what he gives her? A vial of potion. A sudden hate and anger overcame her. She never even got this angry at Malfoy. She threw the potion against the floor and it shattered, sending shards ricocheting off the floor and walls. If Harry didn't want any friends that would be fine with her. If hewanted to be alone, he would be alone. But when he comes back, she would not look twice at him, before tellng him no. And that was final. 

            A sudden twitch in her leg filled her with regret.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            _The street was empty. The lights were out. A solitary figure stood, staring at a house, but inside the house he only saw slaves. Lower than the creatures. Weaklings. Yet they had the nerve to turn away from him. He, who grew to so much power, by his own path, through his own work. Did they not know he would have his revenge on them. He smiled openly,, showing his sharp pointed teeth. Better to eat meat with. He sent the energy away. He would have his way. _

_            Numerous pops were heards, followed by the appearance of two dozen black robed men. They had with them a whimpering young girl. She was of seven, or eight. Old enough to know what she saw, young enough to not be entirely believed. Oh, a wonderful age at which to scar someone for life._

_            The skeleton of a man nodded towards his followers, and the girls eye's were pinned open. A shield was placed around all of them. The leader went forward to a metal plate in the road. He lifted the plate with his hand and withhis wand, he knocked the valve open. A loud hissing erupted from the damaged metal. The man placed his wand into the hole he had created and whispered a few well chosen, and unheard words. An explosion sent him five feet into the air, and twenty feet backwards. He quickly got to his feet to avoid being disrespected. _

_            He was in time to see it. On each side of the street, the houses burst into flames, one after eachother, sequentially down the street. The girl was screaming. A large metal piece was dropped near the flaming hole created by the explosion. The leader approached the girl._

_            "Soon, there may be some, people, who will want to know everything you have to say. It would be best if, you told them the truth." With a sequence of pops, they all disappeared, leaving a seven year old girl on a street covered in flame, breathing air thick with smoke and screams. She was the lonliest person in the world._

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            Harry's eyes opened, so bloodshot that one would think all of the blood vessels had popped. He had been reading when it happened. He checked his watch. 7:45. He had to get there. He didn't know how but he knew where he had to go. Grabbing his broom, he started running. He had to get there. Some could still be saved. He mounted his broom and sped down the hallway. He went up the stairs, and turned into the entrance hall.

            Everything was happening over and over in his head. Why didn't he know it was going to happen? Could it have been prevented? Was there anyway to to tell? What the hell had happened? Was he responsible? Everything seemed to be mounting against him. In desperation he shouted the one word that came to mind.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            "Eat something" said Ron, concern on his face. She was staring at her face, which she hadn't even put anything on it. "What in Merlin's name did he say?"

            "Nothing."

            "Then why are you acting so…………depressed? What happened?"

            "He was just busy, writing stuff from a book." Said Hermione.

            "Was it the same potions book he was carrying when we saw him in the halls?" asked Dean, who had been pulled into the conversation earlier.

            "Yeah, I think so."

            "That one is from the resticted section." Claimed Dean.

            "How do you know?" Asked Hermione. 

            "It had the red bar on the binding." Finished Dean. They all nodded in assent.

            Hermione stopped talking and tuned out of their conversation. It had occurred to her that she could block out Harry as much as she needed, but Ron, he had to be brought to her side. She could only think of one or two ways to do this. She turned to him.

            "Ron, would you have sex with me?" She realized what she had said far too late. She began to flush as Ron spit out his porkchop.

            "WHAT!?!?" He yelled, before gaining control over the volume of his house. "Could we possibly talk about this somewhere else?" He was turning a brighter shade of red than sghe ever could. The Gryffindors nearby were all staring at her shell shocked. Unable to move, talk or eat, they watched her. She put her face in her hands, hiding herself from the world. What had she done? She had asked Ron for sex in the middle of dinner. It would be all over the school by morning. Malfoy was going to make hell. Two people who saw her humiliation dove to the rescue. It happened that for this once, Fred and George were at opposite ends of the table. Fred stood up.

            "OYE, GEORGE" Fred called, "WOULD YOU HAVE SEX WITH ME?" George looked confused for the shortest time before catching on.

            "ABSOLUTELY! HEY, ALICIA, WOULD YOU HAVE SEX WITH ME?" in seconds, everyone was asking everyone else for sex, and in minutes, the laughter was so loud that no words could be heard. It took a while for everyone to calm down. Hermione displaced herself to where Fred was chatting idly with Alicia Spinnet. Hermione sat down and when the first opportunity presented itself, she thanked Fred.

            "Ah, no problem Hermione. We know what happened last year. We all gotta stick together, us Gryffindors." She smiled softly, and left Fred and Alicia to their own mechanisms. She had barely sat down and finally decided to eat something. 

            "**_FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!!" The word was uttered from one mouth, but it's sheer volume and echoes off the stone of the castle made it seem like everyone was encase in the sadness and anger behind the word. Everything went silent, until there was an earth shaking snap and shriek as the front doors of the castle burst open. Harry Potter, leaning almost flat against rose above the trees and set speed records which would never be broken._**

            In ten minutes Harry would see the flames and smoke on the horizon. By fifteen all the flames would be put out, and by twenty, nearly every auror on duty had surrounded Harry Potter on Winston Oval, ten miles south of the greater London area.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            "Harry Potter?" Said one of the aurors. They all stepped back. It was a very cinematic sight. A young man with a bleeding forehead, the blood smeared back into his hair from flying, all around them was a heavy smoke, darkening the already twilight sky. His blood appeared black, and he made no movement of attack or defense against the aurors. The weeping of some families nearby could be heard despite the sirens of the fire engines. 

            "What are you doing here, Mr. Potter?" Some of the aurors began to lower their wands, but put them back up when slapped by others. 

            "I heard there was going to be a weenie roast somewher around here. It looks like they went ahead without me." He took a breath. "What the hell do you think I was doing, I was putting out flames." You don't see any, do you?"

            "May I see your wand please?" asked the leader. He was obviously quite confused and trying to stick to protocol.

            "Give me yours, and I'll do it for you, it's not a spell that can actually be faked, you know." The leader looked at one of the younger looking aurors, and the auror tossed ihis wand to Harry. Harry put one wand in each hand, put the tips together, and whispered "_Priori Incantem." A wave of water was emitted from Harry's wand, causing six of the aurors to be sucked to the ground. "Satisfied?"_

            "We need to run some tests in the area." He was looking carefully at Harry. The silence fell heavily, as Harry and their leader exchanged stares.

            "What's stopping you?" chided Harry. The was a small pop, which grabbed their attention. 

            "Albus Dumbledore!" shouted one of the aurors.

            "What is going on here?" said another.

            "If you need, I will account for Mr. Potter up until fiteen minutes ago" explained the headmaster.

            "Why not after that?" inquired the auror.

            "He had left. On his broom, I might add." 

            "That's, that's perpostrous!!!" said the auror.

            "I would say the same, Mr. Wilkins, but I had the liberty to collect this on my way here." Sighed Dumbledore. The man took a piece of parchment from the headmaster and read it in shock.

            "Do you have your broom, Mr. Potter?" asked the leader. Harry opened his cloak, and slid his broom from a specialized pocket he had installed. He just noticed the wax and protective finish had been scratched off everywhere except where his hand had been during flight. He handed it cautiously to the auror, who had some trouble deciphering the serial number and comparing it to the one on the parchment. He was successful in the end. "Do you know what this means. This breaks every record there ever was. How is it possible?"

            "I cannot answer these questions. The only who was there, just handed you his broom" Dumbledore stated. All eyes naturally trailled to Harry. He shrugged his shoulders.

            "I don't know, I was really angry. I did what was necessary." No one seemed to believe him. "LOOK, I was in the middle of an adrenaline rush, I couldn't help it."

            "An average speed of 2,114 miles per hour? That's faster than sound! That's faster than a bullet! Any bullet!" Claimed the auror in disbelief.

            "Don't forget a recorded top speed of 2,730 miles per hour" whispered Dumbledore aloud. He appeared to be very proud of Harry. The score of other aurors were just looking at him in alarm. " I think he may be going through a second stage developemental process. Some of you may remember those." A few rolled their eyes in realization of the possibility. Second stage developemental processes were known in that they produce sudden, extremely strong magical pulses from the person going through them. This power never lasts. However, it would make sense in Harry's case. His fury and  a pulse sent through the broom could very well have sent him at uncharted speeds.

            A shrieking beep sounded. All of the aurors apperated away uniformly, as if they were all connected, leaving Harry and Dumbledore alone. Dumbledore used his reflexes to grab Harry's broom before it hit the ground. Being dropped from the apperating leader, named Wilkins. Harry let out a sigh as he accepted his broom from the headmaster. It was in horrid condition. Scratched, bent, cracked, you name it.

            "I suppose, anyone who watches records will know. It'll be everywhere by the morning. I hate publicity." Harry groaned.

            "I won't even mention the shouting of profanities to the entire school."

            "Thanks."

            "Don't mention it. So how much were you able to salvage?" Harry's eyes became dead at the question, and his voice became hollow.

            "Not much. I got twelve people out of burning houses. Eight were already dead. Three were burned beyond saving. The one I got out would have made it without me. All the house were entirely destroyed. It wouldn't have mattered if I never showed up." 

            "But you did, and that deed speaks very highly of you."

            "I don't care, headmaster. I don't want this getting out, do you understand?"

            "Entirely, mr. Potter."

            "I couldn't even find the girl."

            "Whom?"

            "He brought a young girl here to watch, he _made her watch, but when I got here, she was gone."_

            "We cannot do everything we want to, Mr. Potter."

            "Try telling that to Granger."

            "Ah, you mean Hermione. I believe she learned her lesson during third year. Perhaps it is your turn."

            "Keep talking. You were lying about the developemental second stage whatever you call it thing, right?"

            "I was not lying, I was…"

            "Exagerating the truth."

            "Well said, Mr. Potter. How are you going to return to the school?"

            "First I'm going to Hogsmeade to get a very strong drink, and then I'm going to make it stronger, and maybe I'll take the midnight portkey back."

            "Then, I will see you tomorrow, Harry. Have a safe trip."

            "Likewise." With a small pop the old man disappeared. Leaving Harry, and all of a sudden, he knew just how the little girl felt.

Had to get this one out quick, because I won't be able to update for a while. MID-TERMS. Not fun. Anyway. Thanks everyone for reading, and I hope you review. It isn't too much to ask you to review. You spent how long reading this? Couldn't you spend two minutes on a short and nice review. Please consider it. Thanks to all my past and present reviewers. Everyone else who has mid-terms, good luck. Happy reading.


	21. Holding Back

            "Whas in dis, tom" asked a highly intoxicated Harry.

            "Oh, many differen' potions. Cheerin' charms, some static charms, some dynamic charms?"

            "Why's that?" Asked Harry again.

            "Well, the more conflictin' potions there is, the more messed up yeh get." Harry put the glass down and stared at a point four feet to the left of the bartender. 

            "Hell yes" Harry mumbled. "Lemme geh another…"

            "Why don' yeh finish the one yeh have thar, firs'?"

            "Because……I nee' anothe' one." Tom reached into a hidden cabinet under the liquor shelves and produce a bottle of the most disgusting looking fluid known to mankind. He produced another glass and filled it halfway.

            "Mow." Harry said. Tom stopped to try to decipher it. "More, more." Tom sighed and filled the glass to the brim. Harry tilted his head back and finished the first glass, and without hesitation chugged the second. Tom, from experience gave Harry eight seconds. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Harry's head was wresting on his arm as his arm lay on the table. He was asleep-"

            "Yeh know who's real a bloody bastar'? Voldemort." Tom dropped the glass he'd been holding. It's shattering was unnoticed by Harry. Instead Harry focused, as much as he could, on a very pretty bottle of golden yellow fluid. Tom watched as the bottle hovered over to Harry, and seemed to set itself on an invisible shelf in front of his face. "Ouí, ouí. Dam' french. Didn'' kill him when they ha' da chance." The bottle, which just happened to have a French beverage in it, suddenly exploded, but no glass pieces or liquid ever made it to any surface in the pub. Harry had told Tom what to do if he become "overly reckless."

            Tom led a mumbling Harry out to the fountain and made Harry's hand place a few sickles into he orb. A light flashed and a glowing print was on the tip of Harry's finger. As the orb began to flash Tom held Harry's finger against the orb. Harry never stopped chatting about anything and everything. He was _supposed to be knocked out. After a minute of potions, Voldemorts, and Hermiones, Harry finally disappeared into the night._

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            He was wasted more than he knew was possible. Everything was swirling with neon colors, and voices seemed distant and inconsistent. He staggered for what seemed like and eternity before looking around. Behind him was the three Broomsticks. He had left there a while ago. He reached out his hand and he touched the building. Maybe he hadn't left there so long ago. He took a countless number of steps, also known as three, and stumbled to a knee.

            He was finally part of the group. He had it on him forever. And he had participated in his first mission. He was a success. Well on his way to a position of powerful slavery. And he was enjoying it. He supposed he had a little to much to drink. I mean, the little green fish just ate the statue to his left, that had to mean something. He took another step and bumped into something before falling down. Just before someone fell on top of him. The person rolled off and stood up. He seemed to be moving very quickly. The person turn to face him, and there was no mistaking the face hovering over him, even if the purple rabbit was sitting on the person's nose.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ 

            "Pot- Pot- Potter!" The blonde haired boy said with drunken disgust. He drew his wand and pointed it straight up in the air. A bunch a green sparks were ignited in the air. The bright light shocked Harry and he jumped backwards, falling onto the soft grass. Malfoy stood up and started mumbling so many sounds that he only got sparks and toothpaste to come out of his wand. Harry crawled crookedly to the nearest building and started firing sparks back. He actually was able to conjure a disarming spell, which hit an animated stone sculpture of a man wielding a short dagger. The dagger flew from the sculpture, and smashed to pieces next to Harry's head. Forgetting that he had sent the spell, Harry began charging the sculpture, still crawling on his hands and knees. He was shouting things that only the goblins would understand. 

The sculpture charged Harry while Malfoy started swinging at a flower-basket which was swinging over his head. He had deemed it a threat and was defending himself against the tulips it contained.

The sculpture, realizing Harry was intoxicated to the brim, realized he was no match for such strength in insanity, and ran away. Harry saw Draco attacking what appeared to be a hovering plate, and charged. He ran into Draco, but instead of tackling him, they started running alongside each other. Harry tripped on his own feet and fell. Draco kept running while laughing until he tripped on the low wall of the fountain and fell in. Harry crawled to the edge of the fountain and started groaning at Malfoy, while Malfoy grabbed onto the stone center of the fountain for dear life. His clothes were saturated so he panicked, thinking that the water was attacking him, and he discarded one article of clothing at a time. 

Harry had to get to Malfoy, to pound him into a bloody Mary.  He needed a way to get across the pond. He crawled in circles for a few minutes until he realized that he would have to cross it. The eight inch deep water was deeper than he could handle, so he tried to throw a rope across, to tow Draco's boat in. But the ropes disappeared somewhere near Draco on the fountain. Draco started screaming and kicking the water. A large splash hit Harry and he dove to the ground fighting to breath from the water that covered his face. Finally, as exhaustion and the potions took over his brain he passed out face down on the dirt path. 

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            The pain was enormous. He had never had such a bad headache. He knew something terrible had happened, but whatever he did it must have worked, because he couldn't remember a thing. The constant clicking noise was beginning to annoy him. He began to open his eyes. Big mistake there. The light was too much to take. He didn't feel like he slept in his bed. The air was cooler than his room should be. Slowly he opened his eyes to a tremendous number of flashes from cameras. So that was the clicking noise. He saw that there were only a small group of people around him compared to the dozens who encircled the fountain. After two tries Harry made it to his feet and tried to find the spectacle. He saw Malfoy with his hands tied behind his back and around the fountain. 

            He started laughing, and he couldn't stop. The cameras were once again focused on him, but he didn't care for once. It was just too funny. It was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. This morning would live forever as the funniest morning he would ever experience. It was like Christmas, his birthday, and Fred and George all rolled into one. The best part about Draco Malfoy being tied up on the fountain, was that he was absolutely, one hundred percent, buck, naked. That, and he made very good impression of a snail with salt on it; all shriveled up. Harry just couldn't hold it in. It brought tears to his eyes. He grabbed a magical camera from the nearest person and snapped the picture. Not a moment too soon.

            Draco began to stir, and once his eyes opened, he screamed. It was the kind of shriek no one wants to let out, but everyone wants to hear. He broke through the weak ropes securing him to the fountain and covered himself up, falling into the water. Harry had to take another picture. He was screaming as he pulled his clothes from the bottom of the pool of water and made his best attempt to conceal his…insecurity. Harry wondered if he had inherited it from Lucius. Lucius. He would surely put an end to this. 

Harry extracted the two pictures he had taken from the camera. He had no time to admire his work. He pocketed the pictures and made his getaway, jogging to get as far away as possible. He had barely made it passed the iron gates of Hogwarts when a blue hued hemisphere engulfed the entire downtown of Hogsmeade. The pictures would all be destroyed. All but his. 

His headache returned in full force, but it wouldn't destroy his mood. He had a favor to call in from someone in the media.

Harry arrived at the castle, and went straight to his room. He had to do this. It would rival anything Fred and George had ever done. This would immortalize him. It would be immoral not to do it. He made a dozen copies of each picture, and sent them out to the most popular Wizarding publications he could think of. He framed two of each, and put them aside. Feeling rejuvenated, he quickly and methodically finished copying everything he needed. He sprinted up to the Owlry with one of each picture. He scribbled on the parchment he was carrying "Lucius Malfoy." He picked the largest house owl and attached the "gifts" before chuckling the entire way to the Gryffindor Common room. 

He arrived at the Fat Lady's portrait and tapped on it not too nicely to awake her. 

"I would like to enter." He sounded cheerfully intimidating.

"Password?" He shrugged. "You'll have to wait then" she said in a snobby way. He had paid attention during all those nights with Voldemort. There was a way to get by her. They had stopped discussing it when he never showed up at Hogwarts. He supposed they no longer had a need to get into the Gryffindor Common room. 

Harry stood on his toes and place the tip of his wand at the keystone of the arch behind her. He whispered a word softly. The keystone disappeared and the arch bent inward to make up for the missing piece. He saw the Fat Lady wince in pain, before a loud pop sent her picture swinging open at an extraordinary speed. Harry stepped inside to revel in the emptiness of the common room. He hadn't been here in a while. It must have been a Sunday. No one was awake and it was already ten o'clock. He went up the stairs and opened the door to a dormitory. He searched for the bed which had Ron's things all over it. When he didn't see it, he checked the door. A brass 4 was posted there. He was in the right place. Crap, no. Ron was a fifth year. He should have been a fifth year. It must have been a reflex. He closed the door and went up he seven more steps to the Fifth year dormitory.

He immediately found Ron's bed. Not bothering to try to wake him, he grabbed all of the sheets and pulled until Ron hit the ground with a hard thump. 

"Wha- who the bloody hell do you think you are?" He groaned while he sat up nursing his elbow. 

"Be down in the common room in five minutes. It's life threateningly important." Harry didn't even look for a reaction. He ran down to the common room, and up to the girls fifth year dormitory. He suddenly realized he'd never been in the girl's dormitories before. No matter. This was too important. He entered and heard a gasp. No shriek. That was good. He turned to see Parvati wrapped only in a towel, her hair wet from a shower. 

"Hermione." It was all he needed to say. Parvati pointed towards one of the beds. Harry opened the curtains to see her. She looked so peaceful. Her head rested comfortably on one pillow, while her leg and arm were wrapped possessively around another. He all of a sudden didn't want to wake her. He knew he would regret it if he didn't in the long run. He took a spray-bottle which appeared to have water on it and tested it on his skin. It was water. He placed it ten inches from her face and squeezed lightly, so only a fine mist actually got there. She moaned and rolled over. He did it again.

"Lavender, if you do that one more time, I _will slap you." Hermione groaned._

"She's asleep" Harry said. He supposed he expected this. Her eyes popped open and she sat up after little struggle. Only after she saw Harry examining her did she lift her sheets to cover herself and her thin nightie.

"What are you doing in here? You could be expelled!" She had totally forgotten to be angry at him.

"Now that would be interesting. They'd really have to bend the rules to get that one through. Get to the common room as quickly as possible. It's important." He turned to walk away.

"Wait, all I need to do is get into my bathrobe. Can you pass it to me, it's right over there." Harry lifted the sky blue robe and handed it to her. He wasn't trying to make her uncomfortable, so he turned to leave. As he neared the exit he waved to Parvati who was still in her towel. Overcome with excitement Parvati let go of the towel and waved back. As Harry exited the towel hit the floor. He popped his head back in to take a short look before smiling and sprinting to the common room, where Ron was waiting. They sat in silence for the eternity of forty seconds until Hermione arrived. He had her sit on a sofa with Ron. 

"Alright. I need a few answers. What was the funniest thing you can associate with Draco Malfoy?" Harry began.

"Ferret" said Hermione sleepily. Ron nodded in agreement.

"Good. Now what is the funniest thing you have even seen?" Harry asked.

"Ferret" said Hermione.

"When Fred blew himself out of the window and couldn't get out of the apple tree" said Ron, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

"What I have for both of you, is quite possibly the funniest thing ever." Hermione sighed and looked out the nearest window. Ron's eyes opened just a little bit more. Harry withdrew two frames from his robes pocket, and handed one to Ron and one to Hermione. Ron's ears went red and he burst out laughing. Hermione looked violated.

"When did this happen?" She inquired.

"This morning, in Hogsmeade." He guessed her next question. "He was intoxicated." She nodded understandingly. 

"Is he really, that…" Hermione began. Ron looked over at Hermione's picture. 

"Oh my god, HE'S TINY!" Ron exclaimed.

"I know. Hang on to them, they'll be worth a lot someday" Harry said.

"I don't want this. It's revolting." Said Hermione.

"Here, take mine, I'll take this one. It's less hideous. Seamus has to see this. Everyone has to see this. Hell, this one belongs up there next to Godric" Ron nodded towards the large portrait of Godric Gryffindor hanging over the mantelpiece. He stood up briskly and scaled the steps up into the boy's dormitories. 

Harry and Hermione were left in an uncomfortable silence. Her eyes were glancing over the picture she had been given, but Harry could tell from her eyes that she wasn't really looking at it.

"You don't like it?" he asked, not at all letting anything resembling disappointment linger in his voice. 

"No, I thinks it's funny. I'm just…tired, Harry. It's too early in the morning for jokes and pr-." Harry dashed over and covered her mouth. She became quiet very suddenly.

"What's it too early in the morning for?" Asked Fred as he and George appeared, wide grins on their faces. She realize what he had just gotten her out of.

"Nothing" she said as flatly as she could. 

"Harry, brilliant shot. We have plans for copies. I think one life-sized one would look nice on the ceiling of the Great Hall" sniggered George. Once again, the Weasley twins would set the standard.

"Well, were off to make copies. Bye everyone." They started to whisper amongst themselves and left through the portrait. When it wouldn't close, and the Fat Lady started shrieking, both Weasley's fled, and laughing echoed through the hallway. Harry turned back to Hermione. He caught her staring at his scar. She reached up and traced it lightly with one finger. He closed his eyes, feeling a tingling sensation, mixed with a dull ache as the sensitive area, raped nightly with pain, was caressed by her finger.

"Wouldn't life be so much easier if you never had this." It wasn't a question. "This little thing has put you through so much, and for what?" He voice was barely a whisper. He opened his eyes and saw the kindness and focus he hadn't seen in her eyes since…the year prior. 

"I have to go." He said, matching her whisper. He didn't know why, but it felt better to whisper. She slowly withdrew her hand from his forehead, and looked into the fire.

"Are you coming back?" She asked, her voice regaining the strength and confidence he was used to.

"I think so. The are too many books which Flourish and Blotts doesn't have, that I can find here" he sighed, "besides, I am allowed to visit just to check in on my friends, right?" She nodded, but she still wasn't looking at him. He wanted to hug her, kiss her, touch her to let her know he still cared. He wanted to really say good-bye, without having to hide from himself. If she only made it a little easier. If life was a little easier. He stood, and glanced around. "Good-bye then. Tell Ron and everyone else I leave a warm farewell." She was unresponsive. He took his leave and slowly walked towards the entrance. He looked back to see her eyes follow him out the portrait hole. They exchanged one last look before he left.

She opened her mouth to yell for him to come back, but something, deep down inside, was telling her that he had to leave, and nothing she could ever do would be enough to make him stay. The whole of mankind would always be more important to him than she was.

One more out. Now I mean it this time, no more updating until after mid-terms. I don't know whether I'm trying to convince you or me. I CANNOT believe that Nappa, the god of fanfic, actually read my fanfic, and even left a review! Two reviews. I feel so amazingly high on life right now. And in response I have a few things to say. No, Hermione and Ron will NOT be having any sex. It was a phrase she spat out on an angry impulse while thinking about Harry. He all say things we regret when were mad. It was time for Hermione to slip-up. I will leave a quote to give you a vague tease of what may end up coming along. 

"Sometimes, the situation requires that we hold the hand of our enemy. The difficult part is not letting them see you when you use the other hand to draw the knife."

- Freidrick Nietzsche


	22. I'd like to introduce you to Peter Petti...

It had worked differently than he had thought. True, he had still seen Voldemort, and his little play people, and true, his scar still bled in waves. But the pain had decreased enough for him to notice. And that was a good thing. The first good thing all day. 

An owl crash landed onto his desk carrying a letter in a green envelope. He knew what a green envelope meant. It had a spell on it. He wondered if it was from Hermione. He had left Hogwarts two weeks ago, and he supposed she would write him soon. 

Harry read his name off the envelope, and recognized the handwriting. It was about time for him to be hearing from Sirius. Yet, that still didn't explain about the spell in the envelope. As Harry began to open it, the exhausted and ruffled owl desperately flew out the window and dived into the backyard. Shrugging, Harry opened the envelope.

As soon as it was opened, a red envelope fell out. The door locked and the window slammed shut and locked. The word "_silencio" lingered in the air. So Harry was locked in his room, which was sealed off from noise, with what appeared to be a letter from Sirius. Not just any letter. This one was definitely a howler. The envelope trembled before it burst open._

"**_WHAT IN BLOODY HELL ARE YOU THINKING!?!? NOT GOING BACK TO HOGWARTS!?!? HOW CAN YOU DO SUCH A DISPICABLE THING? HOW CAN YOU STAND THE MUGGLES? HOW CAN YOU AVOID GOING TO THE _****_ONE PLACE_****_ WHERE YOU ARE SAFE? I YOUR PARENTS WERE ALIVE YOU'D BE SNAPPED, CRACKED, AND POPPED RIGHT OVER TO DUMBLEDORE'S OFFICE!!! YOU HAD BETTER GET THERE FAST, BECAUSE IF I FIND YOU ARE NOT THERE BY THE NEXT TIME I CORRESPOND WITH DUMBLEDORE, YOU WILL SINCERELY BE SORRY!!!" _**

The envelope burst into ash and a small piece of parchment fell onto the floor. Naturally, Harry picked it up to read. _P.S. I heard your muggles got you a motorbike. Congratulations. Harry couldn't help smiling. The man had no clue. You are not supposed to say things like that when you want people to do something for you. It didn't really matter anyway, Harry's mind was made up anyway. The clock down in the parlor sounded twice. It was two o'clock. He had to get to work._

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

Work was exhausting. Lockhart had recently come out with a new book, _Compilations of Your Favourite Magical Rescues, by Gilderoy Lockhart. There was a picture of him on the cover which would make Mrs. Weasley blush. Harry swore to himself, that is the picture winked at him, or blew one more kiss at him, he would destroy the lot of them. The book was large enough, and Harry couldn't help but wonder exactly how a person could fill so many pages with lies. Stolen lies, at that. As he placed the last one on it's shelf, he sighed in approval. _

He couldn't help shaking his head at the women camping outside overnight, just to make sure they would be the first to get a copy when Flourish and Blotts opened tomorrow. Pathetic. People shouldn't swoon at celebrities; he knew more than anyone that just because you're popular doesn't make you special. He wandered over to the counter where Spencer was.

"Thanks a bunch, Harry, for finishing before you went home." Spencer said as he read a relatively small book

"No problem. Are you going to home?" Harry asked as Spencer turned the page of his book.

"No, I have to make sure no hot and bothered patron get wand-happy and try to take their book too early. I'll be fine. I do this all the time." They exchanged good-byes, and Harry stepped into the floo. He didn't know that when he shouted "The Dursley's," his life would take a very sharp turn.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ 

"_CRUCIO!!!" The shrill voice of the conjuror was only surpassed by the shriek that followed it. Harry leapt to his feet. He had drawn his wand and was prepared for anything. The living room was empty. But he could see the back of a man silhouetted in the doorway of the kitchen._

"_Where, IS HE?" The same voice screamed. There were two different wailings emanating from the kitchen. _

"I, I don't know!!!" screamed Vernon Dursley. The sound echoed eerily in the house. A silencing spell was obviously on the house. "_Crucio!!!" the voice screamed again._

There was a light thumping as someone came down the stairs. The sound was barely noticeable over the crying. '_Divide, and destroy.' It was what he had to do. "__Stupefy!" Harry said in a hoarse whisper. He hit the figure coming down the stairs. The figure slumped over onto the ground at the base of the staircase. The thump was much louder than his marching down the stairs. _

"Avery, go check on Wendle, would you. What the hell's he doing up there still?" The man in the high pitched voice said again. He finally recognized the voice. Wormtail!!! Hatred and revenge burst into his bloodstream. The figure in the doorway was turning his way. He had to appear now. 

Harry sprinted straight at the man. The surprise and momentum were all Harry needed. "_Stupefy" Harry yelled. The spell hit the man, and he slumped enough to allow Harry to leap over his body. Harry fell into the kitchen, and started sliding along the floor. _

"GET HIM!!!" Wormtail yelled to another man, who was drinking something at the kitchen table. Harry saw his Aunt and Uncle curled up on the floor in the corner. Vernon leapt up at Wormtail, who returned his wand to Vernon's face. It was only Harry and the man. Wormtail was in no position to attack. Harry hit the man with a fast disarming spell, just before his head made contact with the cabinets. Harry turned to Wormtail, the only one left. "_Stupefy." Vernon fell down and Wormtail turned to Harry who had trouble getting to his feet. The kitchen was not big enough to give Harry enough time to dodge a curse. In desperation Harry dove into the parlor. A yellow jet of light hit the wall above him, followed by a blue flame. The wall in that area disintegrated like plastic on fire. Harry through a cheering charm at Wormtail to distract him and jumped over the sofa to get on the far side of the parlor. He turned to face a sneering Wormtail. Harry suddenly realized his greatest weakness. He saw the two bodies nearby. One at the base of the stairs, and one just outside the kitchen next to Wormtail's feet. The panic in Harry's eyes was apparent. Two simple spells and it would be three on one. Impossible odds for him. Wormtail understood rather quickly._

"I don't need them. I can do this myself. I have waited so long to do this myself. No one is around to stop me anymore. Tell your parents…hmm, what should I have you tell them? Commit this to memory, boy. Tell your parent I hope they are enjoying their stay. Tell them we are all well down here, and they are not nearly as missed as they could hope, also mention, only if they ask, that it was me who was feeling around inside you mother when she died –" He stopped suddenly. Harry's limbic system had taken too much. He couldn't control it any longer. Her let it all out. He let it flow. It was his essence, his power, his strength. His eye's glowed green, but his iris's were gone. His body had grown in stature, and his facial muscles began to rival his body muscles. The fear written on Peter's face turned to panic, and he found one more conflict to run from. There was a pop, and he was in a cage.

There was a far away yelling, and Harry turned to see the one he had disarmed charging from the side. He dove into Harry knocking him backwards. He landed on top of Harry and with a drawn knife tried to stab Harry in the eye. Harry pushed the knife aside at the last minute, and it cut the skin clear through on the bridge of his nose. The man overpowered Harry, and the knife went forward, nicking his ear and being buried deep into the wooden floor. The man placed his hand on Harry's face, smearing the gushing blood into his eyes, into his mouth, even into his ears. Harry didn't have the strength, until the man's other hand went around Harry's throat. Harry gasped as he could no longer breathe. Harry used all the will power he had and the man flew backwards at incredible speeds. He crashed through the wall and landed in the garage.The man stood up and put his hand on the back of his head. When he removed it, it was covered in blood. 

Harry was having trouble seeing through the blood in his eyes. He winced in pain. He knew when his attacker crouched, that he was picking up a wand. "_Bombardious." A ball flew by Harry's head and hit the wall behind him. A shock wave sent him flying forward. He was able to make out a large chunk of the wall was missing. He groaned. If he didn't die in this battle, his relatives would surely kill him. Another ball went over him, but this one fell short of the wall and hit the floor. The explosion created a hole in the floor, and Harry had no choice but to fall through. He landed hard on the concrete. His back hurt a lot. He didn't think he could move. Pieces from the floor kept falling in, as if the structure of the house could no longer support itself. Harry raised his wand arm. If it came down to it, it would be all he needed. The head of the man peered over the edge of the hole._

"_Incendio" Harry yelled, the ball of fire narrowly missed the man, but got close enough to get his clothes on fire. The rest of the flame hit the ceiling of the ground story, setting the living room ablaze. The smoke and debris was making it difficult to see and breathe. Thankfully, the tears he was experiencing from the pain was washing the blood from his eyes. He could still feel the warm blood oozing from the bridge of his nose. He groaned and sat up. The pain became sharp but he refused to scream, and he didn't have time to cry. Harry couldn't see where exactly the man was, but he guessed, and set the ceiling of the basement on fire. It ignited without much encouragement, and the floor fell through, with the man. He reacted quickly, sending water all around him to try to quench the flames. Harry took the advantage and threw a stunning spell, which missed. Harry sucked up the pain and stood up. His legs gave way just in time as a spell passed over his head. Harry heard a word, but he couldn't tell what it was while a jet of red was headed towards him, in desperation he put his left hand up and force all the mental strength he could into stopping it._

It wasn't enough, and the spell hit with a half of the power it was sent with. The pain was tremendous. It was obviously the Cruciatus Curse. Harry collapsed and cried out. The spell ended quickly, but he heard it sent again. He used all of his strength to stop it, and he did it, it halted and hovered between them. A rainbow of lights flew past Harry's eyes followed by a crushing boom. He was thrown against the concrete wall slamming his head. He heard a crack and knew he wouldn't last much longer. He couldn't withhold a smirk. He had actually blocked a Cruciatus Curse. He staggered to his feet and noticed he had dropped his wand. The dust and smoke was so thick, and the fires so hot, that he knew he had no chance of finding it. Regardless, an object on the floor caught his eye. He picked it up and examined it. It was a crowbar. He approached where he saw the man last. Directly ahead of him, he saw the man standing with his wand pointed into the smoke. Harry gasped, and the man fired a disarming spell into the fiery darkness. Harry, functioning on pure adrenaline, charged the man, and with the strongest swing he could muster, struck the man in the head. There was a sickening crack as the man's head became caught between the concrete wall and the steel crowbar. He fell down, dead. Harry knew he was dead. No one could survive that. No one. Not even he could. The pain was too much, the exhaustion was overcoming his weak mind, and slowly, he slipped into an unconscious state. 

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious. It couldn't have been long. The fires were still burning, however greatly reduced in size. Harry stood, or tried to stand but fell down. He knee was hurting so much he thought it must have been shattered. His back hurt when he move it, and his head felt like it was locked in a vice. A beam fell from above and clattered noisily on the other side of the basement. He looked over at the man who he had hit with the crowbar. His head was greatly deformed from the impact of the crowbar, and it lay lifeless in a puddle of dark blood.. Harry turned to the side and vomited. It was a terrible feeling. Like he had eaten something evil, and was going to have to swallow it again. How would he explain this. His behavior at the train station would have Malfoy blaming him. The ministry would believe Malfoy, and all the other death eaters. He was royally screwed. What would Dumbledore do. He didn't have the courage to call Dumbledore. He would be facing much more than this, and Dumbledore wouldn't be able to help. He noticed the stairs out of the basement had burned to oblivion. He had to think of what to do, but first he had to get out of the cellar.

Harry had learned to apperate. He read it in the books, and practiced all summer long. He was able to go short distances with confidence, but that was always in a calm and relaxed environment. Right now, Harry was neither. He focused as much strength as he could on transporting himself those eight feet up and five feet over. He saw himself appear there, and in fatigue he fell onto his arse, right near the edge of the gaping hole in the floor. It was dark now, and Harry wondered why no police or firemen had shown up. The death eaters probably hid the house. Harry looked around in the dim light of the small flames which still lingered. The cage he had put on Wormtail was intact, and the rat was asleep inside. He saw that the gaping hole in the floor extended all the way up to the roof of the bloody house. What was he thinking. He would be sent to Azkaban. He would be tortured with the sight of his parents dying, over and over and over again. He would be despised by everyone. And he would be abandoned by his friends, or they would be abandoned with him. He couldn't have them make that decision. He had to leave. He had to lead Voldemort away. He couldn't stand himself if they were hurt as a result of him. He could barely apperate now, so travel would be short. He would just have to find a new place to live. Someplace far, far away. 

Harry jumped over the gap at the bottom of the main staircase, and crawled up the stairs, cautious just in case the whole place went down. He got to the top of the stairs and entered his room. Another large hole was there. It seemed that his potions had spilled from his wardrobe, and eaten through the floor. He could see down into the garage. Harry took his trunk and threw everything that he thought would ever be useful into it. His fragile broom, his cauldrons, his money, his books. All of his books. His notes. He didn't realize he was crying until the tears dropped off of his face, making it feel cold. His whole body felt cold. He was a murderer. In self-defense or otherwise. It didn't matter. He had killed. He found it vaguely ironic that he had killed the death eater in a way one would assume a muggle would act. Harry slipped his wand into the sheath on his wrist. Hermione had gotten him that. He fingered it fondly. She would just have to understand. He knew she would take it hardest. Maybe he could stay with the Weasley's for a while. _No, he said to himself, __they'd just come after you there. He would have to tell Spencer he was leaving too. Harry winced as the pain in his back returned in full force. He grabbed a duffel bag and made the inside larger. He would have a lot to carry. Harry made his trunk feather light, followed by the size of a walnut, and slipped it into his pocket._

He went down the stairs slowly, and leapt back into the living room. He had to take the prisoners somewhere, and he only knew of one place. He levitated the corpse of the man in the basement and slowly slid it carefully into the bag. He turned away to throw up again, but there was nothing left for him to spew. He felt as though his stomach was trying to leave his body. He had never felt so sick in his life. His entire body seemed to be torn beyond it's limits. He found the stunned man who he had stunned on the stairs. The man had fallen with the collapsed floor, and was laying down under some rubble in the basement. Harry levitated him into the bag as well. He had made the inside extra large to accommodate his prisoners. He found the third prisoner laying on the ground outside the kitchen. Harry just pushed him into the sack. It was the least he could do. He glanced inside the kitchen. 

Vernon was still knocked out, and Petunia was curled up next to him. The bruises on both of their body's were screaming pain. Harry made sure neither would wake up. He returned to the living room and looked at the rat, curled up in the small cage he had created. This was his opportunity for revenge, but once again he didn't want it. He had the chance to liberate Sirius. That was what he would need to do. Harry picked up the cage and tossed it carelessly into the bag. It clattered around and the rat began to shriek. The heaviness of the air made it sound distant and unimportant. Harry conjured a large stretcher to accommodate both Vernon and Petunia, and he took one last look around. The house was utterly destroyed. The curses and fire had destroyed anything of any worth, and everything else was gone. The ash and smoke was everywhere, and there was no longer the constant hum of electronics that was so common in the Dursley's house. Harry made the bag lighter, and levitated the stretcher as he marched towards the fireplace. Thank god it was intact. 

"_Incendio" Harry said in a hoarse whisper. He tossed all that was left of his floo powder into the flame and placed himself and the stretcher within the tingling heat. He cleared his throat and looked around once more. This was a home, and now, it was ash. "Hogsmeade Station" Harry whispered. With a quick whir he was sucked into the flame, and kicked out on the platform of Hogsmeade station. He didn't know the time, but it must have been late. It was dark, and there were very few people there. He had fallen to his knees upon exiting the floo. He just lacked the strength to stand at the time. He groaned and moaned as he climbed to his feet and started his slow march to Hogwarts Castle. No one saw him coming. No one even knew what had happened. None of the magical sensors had went off. The clock in the Weasley's house never put Harry in "Mortal Danger." No one even noticed the house that had burned nearly to the ground on number four Privet drive. It was all too confusing to think about. Thank god Dudley had returned to school, and wasn't there to witness it. Right now Harry had two, make that three people to take care of. Vernon, Petunia, and the baby she carried. _

It seemed like forever, but Harry made it to the main doors of Hogwarts. He opened them slowly, avoiding any major noise, and slipped in quietly, with the stretcher in tow. He stopped to think of where to go, what was more important, the hospital wing, or Dumbledore' office? He hear a loud voice coming from the closed doors of the Great hall, and he went over to listen.

"My dear students, I apologize greatly for the flood in the kitchen which has delayed your supper, but you must remember, the plumbing here is quite old, and even magic doesn't last forever. I know it is about two hours late for dinner, but I wish you a happy one none the less. Dig in." The voice was unmistakable. It was a late dinner. In all his years of Hogwarts he had never heard of such a thing. He had to speak to Dumbledore. And unless someone seriously injured themselves, Madame Pomfrey would be in there too. There was nowhere else to goit to the main doors of Hogwarts.school, and wasn've. he Dursley'. Harry opened the door, hoping to be able to sneak up to the staff table unnoticed. After the slow, long, high-pitched screech, Harry knew it was impossible.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

A loud squeal sounded from the doors of the Great Hall. Naturally, out of curiosity Hermione turned to see who it was. They were late for dinner. The person at the door seemed to hesitate before entering. He glanced around quickly, at least so she thought. She couldn't see his face from under the protruding hood of his cloak, only his eyes. He seemed to notice the silence and kept his eyes down as he ambled forward towards the staff table. He was levitating something behind him, but it was covered with a cloth. He was carrying a green canvas sack on his back and it appeared to be full with whatever was in it. A squeak emanated from the bag, but in the watchful silence, it was not of big concern. 

About halfway across the hall, the person looked up, and the hood fell back. It reveal such a hideous face that an unrestrained gasp erupted. His face was caked in blood, except for two thin lines where tears had obviously washed the blood away. A large gash across his nose told of a bloody fight. He had numerous other cuts on his face, and his eyes were so bloodshot that his eyes appeared red. His face was swollen, making him look like he had on a rubber mask. His stride was marked by a subtle limp. He was trying to conceal his pain, but every step he took, the wince on his face demonstrated otherwise.

He stopped at the staff table and looked up to the Headmaster. Hermione saw Dumbledore draw his wand shortly after the doors opened. The blood-faced person pulled the blanket off the levitating cargo, and a shriek sounded from the people nearby. On it were two people, one man, and one woman. They were both quite injured, and they didn't appear to be moving. 

Madame Pomfrey stood up immediately and rushed over to the stretcher. With her wand flailing, she checked and rechecked, and tested and examined both of them.

"They're alright Albus, I can have them up in a jiffy" she said breathlessly. She began to tow the stretcher away but Harry grabbed on stopping it. Dumbledore seemed interested, when the person took of his sack and started opening it. "Who is that?" Asked Seamus. He was standing next to Hermione.

"I don't know." She responded, not wanting to break her concentration. The man stuck his hand into the sack, and slammed a cage onto the staff table. In it was a rat with one silver paw. "WORMTAIL!!!" Hermione screamed in hate. At the same time Ron yelled "SCABBERS, I mean. WORMTAIL!!!" Both were looked at like they were crazy. The man wasn't done he lifted the sack above his head, upside down, and three bodies fell out. The girls started screaming, the boys yelling, and every teacher drew their wand. The man seemed unconcerned. He wasn't scared. He seemed like it was trivial. He tossed the bag to a side. "_Expelliarmus!" Flitwick had yelled. The spell hit the man square in the chest. His wand went up to the professor, and the man went flying backwards. His body stopped fifteen feet away, but as it had slid, it left a trail of blood. The man stood up again, and was visibly shaking in pain. It was like he was dead already, but had only risen from the grave to do one last thing. He staggered forward and leant against the Staff table. He picked up Professor McGonagal's fork and started poking the screaming rat. He said it in very quiet words, but in the growing silence his words carried to everyone's ears. _

"I'd like to introduce you to Peter Pettigrew."

Thank you for reading this far. I saw in the journal news today that book five comes out in June. Oh, it will be a very nice summer. Tell me what you think of my story, because I can only better myself when I know where I am weak, and I am only motivated when you tell me where I'm strong. That was a scary scene for me to write, I hope it was exciting for you readers. Wait. I got an Idea, why don't you tell me what you thought of the fight scene, just leave it in a review. Cough. Cough. Sorry, something in my throat. Hey, NAPPA, my midterms end the 30th of January. And this time I really mean it. No more updating until after midterms. Seriously, I mean it. I am Sirius this time. I swear it. Everyone who reviewed, **THANK YOU. You guys make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe it was just an egg-nog. Close enough. To all you who don't review; the more I get the more psychologically motivated I am to get the next chapter up quick. You, know, It's kinda like a drug, and I like it. Happy Reading Everyone. **


	23. Loosing a Family, Gaining a Friend, Bein...

He was still slumped against the staff table. He was still wondering how he had made it so far. He was still wondering if it was the strength of his body or the strength of his magic which allowed him to arrive. He still had something very important to say to Madame Pomfrey before he would let go of the stretcher so she could heal his relatives. He shouldn't have wasted so much on telling them who the rat was, He heard a nearby click, and knew what it was.

'_What is it Harry?' Harry never thought he'd be so happy to hear that voice, even if it was in his head._

'She's pregnant. You have to be careful with her.' Harry thought to Dumbledore, who nodded to Harry and turned to an expectant nurse.

"Have a care, Poppy. She's carrying." Dumbledore said quietly. Everyone looked around in confusion. What was she carrying? Was she diseased? Was it contagious?

Dumbledore hadn't closed the connection yet, so it was weird hearing his voice just a tiny bit behind hearing the voice in his head. Amazing.

'Vernon had the Cruciatus Curse. One of the death eaters is dead. I hit him with a piece of metal. His head caved in. There was a puddle of blood the size of the basement. The others are just stunned. I wasn't hit with anything. I'll be alright with sleep. I just can't walk any more.' Harry was now loosing energy over projecting thoughts. He couldn't take much more. 

There was a shattering sound as a plate hit the floor. Harry turned faster than anyone else could react. His wand was drawn and his face was fierce. When he saw what it was it was too late. The sudden movement has sucked the blood from his brain, and he fell slowly to the ground. 

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

"Is it really Harry Potter?"

"Were those his relatives?"

"Did he kill those aurors?"

"Why did he have a rat?"

"Did he use Dark Magic?"

The yelling from the crowd outside of the hospital wing was beginning to get to her. She had to miss a relaxing night, curled up with a book for this. Guarding the damn hospital wing. And who did these student's think they were? Crowding around the doors like a show was going on inside. Didn't they have any respect for the ill. Even the dead. The constant questions had been going on for an hour straight already. Two students had left, but they had returned with food and beverages. She couldn't see their faces through the crowd, but she was willing to bet they were willing to camp here all night, and that was something she was not willing to do. 

There was a loud clicking sound along with the soft tapping of hundreds of feet. Professor Moody turned the corner with what appeared to be all of the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw houses behind him.

"'evening Minnie." He said in his trademark growl. She hated it when he called her that. Why couldn't he call her Minerva just like every one else. He squeezed by her and stepped into the Hospital wing.

"Let all the students in." He growled again. 

"Why?" she asked. Dumbledore instructed her strictly, that under no circumstances could anyone be brought into the hospital wing. 

"Potter wants witnesses." She had no idea what was going on, but she conceded. Another thunder was heard as the Hufflepuffs arrived, right behind a running Professor Flitwick. She decided that if everyone was allowed in, she should be allowed in too. She was vaguely surprised at the transformation of the Hospital wing. It was now five times larger and had hundreds of chairs as well as a stage. On the stage was a table. On the table was a cage. In the cage was a very sullen rat. Dumbledore was chatting with Moody in quiet serious tones. Everyone found a seat, and fell silent through expectation and suspense. 

"My dear students…" Dumbledore began, but halted as approximately half of the Slytherin house arrived, obviously disgusted at not being invited. Dumbledore waited until they found seats, and ventured to continue.

"My dear students, you were asked here tonight to witness what is known as a new development. Many of us remember the escape of Sirius Black from Azkaban, do we not?" The was a fury of nods. "Does anyone remember what he was convicted of?" A few hands went up. "Ms. Bones?"

"W-well, umm. He was a traitor, who turned dark and handed over the Potters to You-know-who. He was their secret keeper, I think."

"Very good Ms. Bones. Twenty points to Hufflepuff. Now, we all hope and believe that in the end justice will be served. Tonight we will see just how well our system works. First I will tell you a story, another way some claim the events before and after the last attack of Voldemort (flinches throughout the crowd) happened." So Dumbledore began. No one knew that he was just saying everything Harry told him, word for word. By the end most were shocked, and others were denying it. Then Dumbledore went on to explain the events of the Triwizard Tournament, and more people feeling it was a joke. "Now all this is relevant to this rat here, because, if I am told correctly, this rat is no ordinary rat. This rat is Peter Pettigrew." The gasps among the students even surprised Minerva. 

"He was transfigured?"

"I thought Black killed him." The yells from the crowd returned. 

"You misunderstand me. Peter Pettigrew was, _is, and unregistered animagus. Can anyone tell me how you get a suspected animagus to reveal it's true self?" Dumbledore asked._

"_Revealius Animagus!" Someone screamed from the back._

"Correct. Twenty points to Slytherin. Now, you all may feel that any results gotten here may be tampered with so you all may select the witch or wizard to complete the spell on the rat here." Dumbledore explained

"I will!" Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin fifth year screamed. Of course a Slytherin wanted to be up there. Everyone was too stunned to protest. In a few short seconds she made it up onto the stage, and sent the spell at the rat laying in the cage. Immediately the rat grew to a large size, and stood up on it's hind legs. It grew until it was little over five feet. With a sharp pop, a balding man who could only be guessed to be in his late thirties appeared. There was a collective reaction from the students. Even the Slytherins seemed less than confident.

"You see before you, the very same Peter Pettigrew who was somehow killed by Sirius Black. Interesting, isn't it. Ahhh, he's even missing a finger." Dumbledore said. No one had ever heard such venom in his voice. "Severus, your strongest truth potion. Moody, contact the ministry. ('_Already done, Albus') Minerva, send a letter to him." Severus and Minerva left immediately on their tasks. Everyone watched as Dumbledore put Peter in a large cage, and summoned all of the remaining teachers up to him. "Do not let the ministry take him. Especially Fudge. We already know they cannot be trusted."_

Hermione watched in shock. Harry had done it. All by himself. He had captured Peter. He would have set Sirius free. She supposed it should have made her feel good and happy, but it only made her feel more helpless. She was always there to help Harry, but he no longer needed her. His use of her had expired, and she felt so…empty. Like the reasons for everything she ever did had disintegrated. Like the soldier who came back from a war to a country that booed, and jeered, and people who were unappreciated for the sacrifices they made. She knew she was appreciated. Harry had always appreciated her. She just…………no longer had anything he could appreciate her for. She felt like her stomach had left her body, and she could never eat again. There was a small commotion as Snape entered followed by Cornelius Fudge and four aurors. They marched onto the stage, without so much as addressing anyone.

"What madness and hysteria are you trying to create now, old man?" Cornelius said loudly. Dumbledore ignored the comment, and accepted the potion from Snape. Without the least hesitation, Dumbledore placed three drops of the potion in the mouth of Peter, and awakened him with the wave of his hand. 

"Wha- Where am I? I can't be -"

"What is your name?" Dumbledore asked. The man's eyes became glassy, and his screechy voice became like silk.

"Peter Roger Pettigrew."

"When were you born?" Dumbledore asked.

"January fifteenth, 1970."

"For whom do you work?" Dumbledore asked.

"For my master."

"Who is your master?" Dumbledore was getting impatient.

"Lord Voldemort." There were screams and shrieks and all kinds of unheavenly noise, but everyone seemed to squeeze closer anyway.

"Just look here, Dumbledore –" Fudge began.

"No, Cornelius, you look here. You had a death eater, and you made everything he knew worthless. You know the darkness has returned and you run from it. I will no longer tolerate the hiding and cowardice which your administration thrives on. These students, every single one of them will know the truth." With a snap of his fingers Fudge and his aurors were all tied down to chairs facing Pettigrew, who was helplessly clawing at his cage. "And for once, so will you." Dumbledore sighed and made a seat for himself. "Now, Mr. Pettigrew. I want you to tell me everything of your actions for your master starting the week before Holloween, 1981." Everyone got comfortable. They all knew this would be a long story.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

Harry awoke with a crushing headache, he had bandages around his head and eyes, and couldn't see a thing. He knew certain healing potions had been given to him. It would explain why he felt so hot even in his thin clothes. He had no patience for healing, and he couldn't deal with not seeing where exactly he was. Behind his eyelids he kept seeing the man's head laying inpool of blood. He shivered. 

It did not take him long to find the end of the bandage and roll it off his head. He did it slowly, as the little bit of light which started to peak through the bandages as he extracted them was hurting his eyes. How long had he been asleep? He finally got the last layer off and naturally rubbed the bridge of his nose. His hand recoiled when he felt the pain. The wound had been closed and healed, but the pain remained. Harry took in a deep breath and notice his chest movement was restricted. They had bandaged his chest as well. As he became more self aware, he realized his right knee was bandaged too. So was his upper arm, and the wrist of his right hand. When he moved his tongue around his mouth, he noticed a missing tooth. He couldn't remember missing a tooth. Despite the tight bandaging of his chest, Harry sat up slowly, trying not to make the bed squeak. He realized that was how Madame Pomfrey always knew when people has risen, and he didn't want to see her. 

He had to see his Aunt and Uncle. He looked around the infirmary, but it was empty. He was feeling the after-effects of his exertion. His body felt dead. It was yelling at him to go back to sleep. His mind, however, was bored and needed stimulation. His body would just have to go along with it. Moving extremely slowly he slid off the bed, and noticed his clothes were at the foot of his bed. He dressed quickly, so no one would walk in on him while he was revealed. He neglected to put on his shoes. They would tap on the floor and she would hear him. Instead he carried them in his hand. 

He put all of his removed bandages on the bed. He had taken them all off except the one on his chest and back. His back muscles were too shot to keep him standing upright, and the extra support was necessary. He walked slowly over to the wooden doors, taking a peek into the office. 

Madame Pomfrey was filling out some forms, while listening to the wizarding radio. It gave off just enough noise that he could slip out, and he did. Once in the hallway he started checking his pockets as they clinked and jingled. He found his wand, and returned it to the sheath on his wrist. It hadn't been there when he took the bandages off, but somehow it had returned. He found his trunk in his pocket. He checked all of his pockets, and once satisfied, he walked down towards the entrance hall. From the height of the sun through the windows, he guessed it must be late morning. Everyone would be in classes, so he could wander around without being seen. The great hall would probably be empty, and he would have to go to the kitchens for breakfast. He wasn't so hungry, but he really was tired, and needed fuel. As he entered the entrance hall, he saw his Aunt and Uncle whispering. 

"You said you were leaving here, and I agreed. You said we were leaving England, and I agreed. You said we'd take Dudley out of school, and I agreed. You said we would never tell him where we're going and I agreed. He saved our lives, Petunia, and you won't even say good-bye to him. He's asleep up there with god knows what, and you won't even say good-bye. He is your nephew by blood. No matter what, you owe him this little courtesy." Vernon was red in the face. Harry had never seen Vernon get mad at anyone but himself and motorcycle drivers, so it was a little awkward for him to stand there.

"Do what you will. I am leaving. I don't have anything to say to that…that thing!" she hissed, before walking out of the main doors of the castle. Vernon watched her go and turned around to see Harry, standing on the stairs. He was standing crooked, as if he had been deformed. Otherwise, he looked like he was in perfect health, if not a little flushed.

"It's alright," Harry said before the situation got awkward "I never expected anything from her. She never really expected anything from me."

"I'm sorry Harry, for everything we did to you. I-"

"Don't worry about it Uncle Vernon. And don't tell me where you're going either. If I ever really needed to find you, I could. We magic folk have our ways." Harry offered a friendly smile as he walked Vernon to the top of the stairs leading up to the main entrance. 

"I think you'll be alright Harry. You always were smart." There was a comfortable silence. "The man who sent them, was he…"

"Yup. He was the very same who killed my parents."

"Oh." Vernon looked humiliated, even ashamed of himself. He was remembering how he had treated the boy for years. How he had made life so much harder for him. How he had messed up his own child more by spoiling him. He had done so much wrong. If only he hadn't been blinded by his wife's prejudice's. "Do you need anything, if you're going to b on your own? Money? Clothes?" Now the silence became awkward.

"No. I'll be fine. I make enough at my job to more than cover myself. I think I'll be moving away, too. Everything I care about, other than your family, is here. He'll come after anyone near me where ever I go. It's the only way I can protect them. He is too strong for them. He's too strong for me. I have no way to defend myself. It's odd how your entire perspective on life changes, when you know you're not going to make it through the year. It's not necessarily fear. It's an empowering feeling, knowing you have nothing more to loose. If you have nothing to loose, you have nothing to defend. And if you have nothing to defend, than all you have to do is attack. In case I never see you again, thank you Vernon. Even if you weren't kind or loving to me, you gave me just enough to get by, and that was all I needed. I'm sorry about your car. I'll make the loss of your house up to you. Have a safe trip." Harry didn't wait for a response, and went down the staircase into the dungeons. 

Vernon wiped away the tear that he had let form. He had been such a bastard. How did it end up this way. The kid thought he was going to die. No, he was sure he was going to die. What do you say to that. What do you say to a sane person who knows of their impending doom. If only he had a second chance, he would have changed so much. God, where did he go wrong.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

Harry licked his lips as he moved through the entrance hall the second time that day. He had a very nice breakfast. He'd only realized how hungry he was when the food was placed in front of him. Dobby was doing well, he was happy to see. He couldn't remember the name of the house elf who had been so depressed the year before, but she seemed to bounce back and served him with the sane vigor of the others, although she seemed to lack some of the joy. 

He became conscious of the fact that he hadn't seen Hermione or Ron since his arrival. Vernon and Petunia had gone, obviously, and he had no idea where the prisoners were. Had they been given over to the ministry already? He couldn't remember ever being so lost at Hogwarts. For his first time there, he didn't know where he should go. 

There was a loud grumbling in a hoarse voice and the sound of a score of footsteps. Harry noticed Alastor Moody leading some younger students down into the basement. 

"Moody" Harry tried to yell, but it came out as more of a loud whisper. He wasn't up to yelling yet. However Moody heard and left his students. He had as much of a concerned look in his face as Harry supposed was possible, considering the scarring. 

"Potter, you should still be in bed. You have three cracked ribs in your back, as well as a broken wrist. Bloody amazing you made it here." He growled. Harry just looked confused. His wrist was never broken. He surely would have felt it. He flicked his wrist. No pain. There must have been some mistake.

"Yeah, well, I'm a quick healer. Always have been." Moody gave a short chuckle to Harry's obvious excuse. 

"Couldn' stand the white ceiling no more, could yeh boy." He let off a loud howl. "Been there meself. What's with the snake?" Harry turned around, looking for a snake. "No, the one in yer pocket." Harry seemed even more confused. Did he have a spy on him? Moody signaled to the chest pocket, and Harry pulled out a short fire orange snake with blue and red stripes. "Well boy? Where'd it come from?"

"It's a Firesnake. I thought it was dead. I thought it would've died in the blast of potions which destroyed it's package." Harry said, awe on his face.

"Firesnake? You sure Potter? I thought they were gone forever." Moody growled, though Harry was sure he had his interest.

"No. They have them in Magical China. One man couldn't afford a potion I made for him, and sent it as payment. He said they could be useful if trained properly and treated well."

"Sendin' potions to China are we? Dangerous business, it is. Wouldn't have expected less from you. What are you waiting fer? Give it a try?" Harry gave him a questioning glace. "Yeh can talk to it, righ'?" Harry forgot he was a parseltongue. He felt kind of weird doing it with a small audience. He focused his eyes on the snake. 

"Hello?" Harry said. The snake turned it's head to him. 

"You are very warm. I have put the life juice into you. You will be perfect soon." Harry seemed more surprised than he thought he would be. He then saw the two small holes in his skin on his wrist. It could heal. His bloody snake could heal. Didn't that go against some sort of rule written in the classification of animals. Moody noticed Harry staring at the marks on his wrist.

"So yer snake got some powers yeh can use. Lucky you, Potter. Down to see a Boggart with the second years. Wanna come. I'll take yeh to yer friends as well." Harry nodded in agreement and followed the crowd of students. He walked a few paces behind them an started a conversation with the one foot long creature in his hands.

"You healed me?" Harry asked it.

"Yesss."

"I was told you could do many things, but I never learned what they are." Harry didn't want to pressure the snake. If it was powerful enough to heal, it was probably powerful enough to kill.

"Squeeze my jaw at it's base, then pinch my tail." Harry obeyed. It was hard to find the base of the jaw but when he did, he squeezed very slowly, not wanting to injure the creature. As soon as the mouth opened, he held that position. Then he grabbed the tail, and pinched the end. There was a loud hissing sound followed by a huge flame flying out of the mouth of the snake. Harry stopped for a second, before continuing behind the students, who were glancing back every few second at the strange guy with the snake. Harry noticed that the snake maintained the flame, although smaller, and served as a sort of portable torch. Harry released the tail and jaw.

"Wow," Harry hissed, "that was brilliant. Your like a tiny dragon, without the wings and the like." The snake seemed to take offense.

"More like the dragon is a big one of us. We were here first. They spawned from us. They were created with evil in mind. We were created out of nature." Harry quickly apologized. "It's cold here." Harry felt the air, and noticed it was a little chilly, especially for a snake. 

"Do you want to go in my pocket, it should be warmer there." Harry asked. This really was an amazing creature.

"Yes, thank you. Although a flame would be better." The snake started slithering up his arm towards his chest pocket.

"Wait. I have an idea." Harry hissed back. He found the nearest torch, pointed his wand at it. "_Duplicus" he whispered. Another torch appeared next to it, but in lacking a metal holder, it began to fall and clattered on the ground. Harry picked it up and made sure the flame was intact. "Will this do?" He asked the snake. The snake hissed a thanks, and went back down Harry's arm to the base of the torch. Harry expected it to curl around the torch a little below the flame, not to wrap itself around the flame. The snake caught on fire almost immediately and started singing a song._

_I am a snake and I'd like a flame,_

_When I am warm, we can play a game._

_If you will not let me be so warm,_

_I will have to bite you on the arm._

_Firesnake, Firesnake, that is my name._

_Firesnake, Firesnake, give me a flame._

_I am a snake you can set on fire,_

_If you do not, it will not be dire._

_I can blow a flame that is quite big,_

_And burn you more than a burning squid._

_Firesnake, Firesnake, that is my name._

_Firesnake, Firesnake, give me a flame._

"I like your song." Harry said with a smile. The snake unraveled itself and slid a little down the torch. Harry was amused to see that the snake was still on fire, but the flame of the snake left no smoke.

"Thank you. It was written by my Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Aunt. She was a very respectable Firesnake. She made it to eight feet long."

"Oh, is that long for a Firesnake?" Harry never heard another animal sing a song with words before. He was naturally curious about it's heritage.

"It is very old. We only grow one inch a year. She was ninety seven. A very old age nowadays. My Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Great, Grandfather was nearly twenty feet. He was 238 year old."

"That is very old for any creature." Harry mused.

"And they said he died young." The snake started shaking, and hissing irregularly. It took Harry a second to realize the snake was laughing.

"We're here" said Moody. Harry followed the students into what appeared to be a storage room used for old and broken Hogwarts furniture. Harry moved to the outside, waiting for Moony to finish his explanation of what to do. "…and to show you exactly how to do it, Mr. Potter will be the first to face the boggart." Harry's head snapped up.

"Excuse me?" Harry sputtered.

"You can show the little ones how it's done. I know you've faced boggarts before. Don't tell me you can't do it." Harry swallowed hard, but nodded. He put the torch he was holding in a stand, and took out his wand. He approached the wardrobe which was to be opened and stood expecting a Dementor. Moody opened the wardrobe and Harry did a double take. The same man he had killed stood there. This was what he was most afraid of? He didn't remember being afraid of him. There was a sickening crack and the man fell down. Blood poured from his ears and mouth, and in seconds a puddle had formed around the body. He didn't hear the second years screaming. He didn't see Moody's eyes go wide in surprise. He only saw a dead man. It made sense to him. He knew what he feared most; being a murderer.

Another chapter out before midterms. I jut can't stop. They start this week too. Maybe I ought to study. So Harry lost his family, but gained a friend. His outlook on life I felt was important. Maybe the only real important part of this chapter. And the snakes song was my first attempt at poetry. Tell me what you think. Even if in a reivew you put "Good firesnake song." Those three short words are all I need. I don't normally write poetry or songs so it was a fresh experience that took the whole of twenty minutes. I hope you like it. I kinda do, but of course I'm going to like it, I wrote it. Anyway.

**Zoot Vampiric Vampire - You say "stupefy" doesn't seem like the curse to use in a life threatening struggle. Let me ask you this. When your life is on the line, do you try something that may or may not work when tension is high, or do you go with old faithful?**

**Malu – Hermione will become more active. She is just still adjusting to self-destructing Harry.**

**Poacher – **Finally, someone who is a firm believer in something. I don't necessarily think I should have more reviews, I just think that if your reading, don't you think you should give a little feedback to the person writing it? People just don't understand that reviewers have a larger effect on the story than they think. Oh, and if you like it when Hermione hits Harry, like four chapters away, I think I'll have a scene that you'll simply love.

**[Takeda Lee][1] – No Harry isn't any bigger yet.** I can promise you one thing, by the very end, he will be of normal or bigger stature, but for most of the story…lets just say if you painted him blue you could call him a smurf.

**Special thanks to ****Zoot Vampiric Vampire, Malu, Poacher, [Takeda Lee][1], as well as 8Princess8, shdurrani, angel, Mystic Queen. Happy reading everyone.**

   [1]: http://www.fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=141151



	24. Playing By The Rules

            "What do we do when the boggart kills himself?" Harry asked. He tried to make it seem like nothing was wrong despite the dead man on the floor. Harry saw nothing funny about it, and couldn't think of anything to make it funny. Moony appeared baffled, and seemed to be scratching for ideas.

            "I think this one is gone. We better get the one in Minnie's office before she get rid of it then." Moody started shuffling the second years out of the room, until only he and Harry remained. "It'll get better Harry, you had no choice." Harry just watched the body. This could have been someone's father, someone's brother, someone's husband, someone's child. Maybe Harry didn't really have a choice, but that still didn't make it alright. "Harry, yer friends are in potions, with Snape. You can find 'em there." Moody shut the door softly and followed his students up and out of the dungeons. Harry stood for a while longer. What was so spiritual about life that made it so fantastic? What, in the end had he taken from this man. Had he really done a sin, in defending himself? What separated a living man from a dead one? Brain activity? A heartbeat? Had he really taken anything significant away? If the man had a soul, and if there was a god,  wouldn't he be better off free from the bounds of life? And if there wasn't, in who's eyes had he sinned? If there was no god, who was there to punish him? Other people? People who knew no more than he did? People who felt they were right, in enforcing their own beliefs onto him? Who did these people think they were, to try to mold him into their perfect little model? He decided he would no longer live by the regulations of others. He needed to find his own path.

            Harry picked up his head and approached the body. He transfigured a particle of lint into a day lily, and placed it on the man's back. If he could ever make it to heaven, perhaps he would deserve it. Harry turned slowly, and grabbed the torch which had Firesnake on it. 

            "Why did the creature kill itself?" Firesnake asked. It seemed almost in euphoria while it enjoyed it's flame.

            "Because it was what I feared most" Harry respond as they exited into the hall. Harry took a second to gain his orientation. He started walking towards the potions classroom.

            "Why do you fear a dead creature?" asked the snake. It was a good question.

            "Because I killed it, and I don't like to kill" Harry explained.

            "Why did you kill?" the snake asked. Harry was thinking of naming this snake Hermes, after the most inquisitive person he knew. He then realized, that he didn't know if the snake had a name or not. How rude of him not to ask. 

            "He was going to kill me. Do you have a name?" The snake uncurled itself slightly from the torch.

            "Yes. The other Firesnakes call me Agni. He was a god of the Hindus, who specialized in fire. Other snakes call me Firesnake." Harry nodded in understanding.

            "I am Harry. Harry Pot-"

            "Harry Potter," hissed Agni. 

            "You know me?" Harry asked. He wasn't aware that the snake had caught up on what others had said.

            "Yes. All snakes know you. Some like you, others despise you. You destroyed the evil serpent, but he has come again, and now he wants his vengeance." Agni said. Harry was very taken aback.

            "How do you know about me?" Harry didn't want everyone to know him. Where was the mystery? Where was the 'getting to know people' part of life?

            "We speak to each other. We know what happens, and we pass the information along. It is not fast, but it is reliable. A snake has a hard time lying. We are not able to make up stories easily. That is why it was hard for my five greats, Aunt to make up a song. She was very imaginative. Anyway. I know you destroyed him once, and he is back from the dead. He wants you to die. Some snakes join him. Most just ignore him and stay under the brown giants until spring."

            "Brown giants?" Harry asked.

            "Yes, in some places there are too many to be counted, in others there are none. They turn green in spring, and many different colors in autumn. They go deep into the earth, and keep us warm in the winter" Agni explained. Harry understood, but only because of the 'many colors in autumn statement.

            "Trees. Agni, we call them trees." Agni nodded slowly. As Harry took his last few steps towards the potions classroom. Agni was mumbling 'trees, trees, trees, trees-" over and over again. He was once again reminded of Hermione. Harry left Agni to remember the new word, and he entered the classroom and placed the torch near the door. A few people looked up, but Harry had already slipped into the shadows as to not be seen. Even Snape's keen eyes never saw him. Snape however did see the torch and went over to put it out. He wore a smiling knowing he could always blame it on the Gryffindors.

Snape drew his wand and was about to speak when a shrill yell wracked Harry's head.

            "HE WEARS THE SERPENT. I CAN SMELL IT ON HIM. HE WEARS THE SERPENT. STOP HIM. KILL HIM!!!" Harry saw that it was Agni. He was hissing loudly and snapping at Snape, who was caught totally by surprise, and stumbled into the nearest table. The potion the Slytherins at the table were making quickly spilled onto Snape's clothes, which immediately unraveled themselves off of his body. Snape knew what was happening and covered himself in a clean apron before anything of significance was shown.

            As soon as Snape recovered, he approached the hissing animal slowly. He seemed slightly in awe, and more than a little surprised. He had his wand drawn and was ready to kill the creature if necessary.

            "My, my. What a treasure we have here…" Snape smirked, "and to think, I have just the potion to put you in."

            "He doesn't like you, you know. He says you wear the serpent." Snape spun around his wand still drawn. Hermione spun around as well at the voice, effectively spilling her potion onto Neville's pant leg. It unraveled as well. Harry figured they were working on relaxing draughts. Harry stepped into the light. "You know, Severus…" Harry sneered his name, as he knew that he could show total disrespect without any harm coming to him. What a perfect class to do it in front of as well. "…That snake is not yours to put into a potion. Agni was given to me by a very kind man who needed my services. If you even attempt to steal it from me, I have the records to prove the transaction, and the punishment for trying to steal a creature of such worth is very, formidable." Severus almost had color go to his cheeks as his face sneered with hate and disgust. 

            "I don't need the blasted creature anyway." Snape roared.

            "Ah, I know, but that doesn't stop you from wanting it. Is that _jealousy, in your eyes, Severus?" Harry almost lost control laughing. Snape quickly returned to his calm demeanor, and flashed his prize winning grin. Most Evil Grin award. It was given by the students every year, secretly. Harry knew what was coming, and he was happy to hear it._

            "Twenty Points from Gryffindor for your lateness, Potter. Twenty for bringing a dangerous creature with you. Twenty more for insolence. Twenty, again, for rudeness, and Twenty for, how shall we say it, insulting a teacher." Snape smiled actually he was victorious. At least he thought he was victorious.

            "So that comes to, what? One hundred points from Slytherin?" Harry said innocently. He was already receiving death glares from the Gryffindors.

            "No, Potter, from Gryffindor, and you cannot stop me from doing it." Snape felt all cold and hard inside. It was a pleasant cold.

            "I dare to object, because, as it is clearly described in the recently updated _Hogwarts: Rules and Regulations for Staff and Students, on page 4,984, paragraph three, that any professor who is head of house, and deducts points from a rival house for a student who is not a member of that rival house, the points are to be deducted from the professor's house. Any retribution as a result of any above mentioned incident, will be taken from the professor's house at twice the cost. So, as I was saying Severus, because I am not currently a member of Gryffindor house, you just deducted one hundred points from Slytherin, and there is nothing __you, can do about it. Next time you want to be the bully, you may want to have the balls and the brain to back it up." Harry couldn't help the smug grin which graced his features. A cauldron next to Snape on a nearby table suddenly melted. Snape actually turned blue from hypertension, and began to sway._

            "Everybody, leave……NOW!!!" Snape screamed. That was all it took. Every student fearing for their own lives grabbed their materials and ran. Harry picked up his torch and was the last to exit. Before he left he had one thing to say.

            "Don't be mad Severus. Anyone who was small enough to need to take off points from a rival house would surely make the same mistake." A minor pain curse hit the wall inches from Harry. Harry didn't even have time to react. A ball of flame left from near Harry's left ear and struck Severus in the leg, he howled in pain and started rolling over to put it out. Not wanting to wear out his welcome, Harry quickly closed the door, and started out of the dungeons. It was kind of funny, that the people he went there to see had left and he had to catch up with them. He found Hermione at the back of the pack, struggling to get all of her supplies into her rucksack while still walking at everyone else's speed. Harry felt slightly awkward, being now significantly shorter than her. She appeared too concerned to notice him. He took her cauldron from her, so she had a free hand. She said her thank you as an automatic response, and finished packing her bag. Harry handed her her cauldron, and she said another 'thanks.' Harry walked with her as she secured her cauldron, until she finally turned to him.

            "Harry!" She said loudly, while stepping back from him. He hadn't expected this and stopped next to her. She seemed panicked and looked around, probably for back up. When she found no one to help her, she took the risk of talking with him. "I…You…What happened?" He knew this had been bugging her a while, and as she hadn't started walking in any particular direction, he told her as simply as possible everything he could remember. She noticed he hesitated when describing the 'killing' to her, but he soon overcame any sensitivities he may have had. Her eyes turned to the snake, which seemed happy enough to be slithering in circles through the flames of the torch. Harry noticed her fascination.

            "It's a Firesnake, from China. The predecessor of the Dragon, and a very wise snake indeed. They are quite rare, you know." Hermione nodded in understanding.

            "You said that it said that Snape wore the serpent." Hermione expressed her thoughts.

            "Yup, the dark mark, I assume. This is a very powerful creature. It can do many things." Harry smiled kindly on his scaly friend. 

            "You shouldn't be up Harry," claimed Hermione after turning sharply towards Harry. They had somehow started moving in the direction of the library. "You are hurt. Madame Pomfrey was saying that you had a concussion, three broken ribs, a broken wrist, and numerous other serious injuries. You have to go back to the Hospital Wing!" She hadn't changed.

            "Calm down, silly girl. I am man. Man no need healing. Man only need food" Harry said in his best neanderthalic voice. A smile flashed across her face before a sad persuasive expression returned.

            "Harry, you are very hurt, and if you don't go back now…I'll go and get Madame Pomfrey" she said resolutely. Harry put on a serious face for once, and waited until her eyes saw it.

            "Hermione, there is an amazing talent in creatures of fire. I have learned that they have the incredible ability to heal" Harry stated softly. She seemed confused until he showed her his wrist, where the two holes from earlier in the morning were nearly healed. She looked up with a doubtfully. "Hey, if you could talk to him, I would have you do it." She frowned.

            "But you can, so ask him to heal this." She held up her hand revealing a particularly large paper cut. Harry sighed. He really didn't feel comfortable asking his snake for help. Not yet at least.

            "Can you heal the cut on her hand?" Harry asked. The snake slithered from the flame of the torch, and remained on fire until it was on Harry's shoulder. The snake, however was not hot, and the flame was not igniting anything it it's path. It just seemed like in the flame of the snake was a pocket of warm air. The snake seemed to examine the skin closely.

            "I usually don't heal for such small injuries. I do not know if I am needed." Harry tried to think of a viable way to get the animal to do it.

            "She claims it hurts a lot, and I told her that the absolutely amazing creature which I have been blessed to receive has the capability to take the pain away. Are you going to turn me into a liar?" Harry said. He hoped he had sucked up enough. The snake mumbled about that '_she doesn't look in discomfort_' before springing forward and sinking it's two razor sharp fangs into Hermione. 

            Hermione hadn't expected it to be so sudden, and the snake had pulled back before she could scream. She dropped her books as a reflex and they fell on her feet, causing her to jump and yell. Harry quickly put a hand over her mouth.

            "Quiet, you said you wanted it to heal you." Harry justified. Hermione was breathing quickly and appeared to be on the verge of fainting.

            "I, I just, didn't expect for it to- to- to bite me." She slowly gained her composure, and leaned against the wall as Harry picked up her books and rucksack. She had turned a deathly pale.

            "How are you feeling? Is your hand alright? Are you feeling ill?" Harry shot at her, while she closed her eyes and breathed. She fingered her hand, and she watched as the paper cut visibly closed itself up.

            "I'm alright. Just a little lightheaded, really. I think I need a nap." Hermione looked utterly exhausted. Harry carried her things for her as, surprisingly, they passed the library instead of entering it, and continued on route to Gryffindor tower. Harry turned his head toward her very suddenly.

            "You don't need a nap" Harry said. He was firm in his words, but they were not unkind.

            "What? I'm a little tired. I just need a short nap" Hermione persisted.

            "No. That's not why you're tired. You're tired because you're not eating enough" Harry said. He knew he was treading on thin ice, but he even if the ice cracked, he wouldn't allow himself to fall in.

            "And how would you know, Mr. I-know-everything-because-I-can-trick-Snape" Hermione scoffed. Harry grabbed her wrist and ran his hand up and down it. Again he was firm and gentle.

            "I shouldn't be able to feel your bones like this. You're too thin. You're not eating enough. After we drop off your things I am taking you to lunch, and that's final" Harry said. He didn't say it in such a 'that's final' sort of voice, but she knew, and he knew, she couldn't argue him away. She showed her concurrence with a small nod, just as they made it to the portrait of the Fat Lady. 

            "Lion's den" Hermione said as she approached the painting expecting it to open.

            "Absolutely not, dearie. Not with that ruffian here." Hermione was caught totally off guard and stumbled into the painting. Harry wasn't going to tolerate any of this in Hermione's weakened state.

            "Listen, little miss plump," Harry said, his irritation very obvious, "open up, or I will open you up, just like last time." Hermione just stood and watched.

            "Ha!" the Fat Lady said, "You can't get in that way any longer. The most honourable Minerva McGonagal saw to that."

            "Really," Harry said, "We'll just have to see about that then." Harry approached the smirking portrait, and placed his wand against the keystone. Hermione watched, still as stone, as the keystone disappeared, and the arch cave in onto the Fat Lady. She seemed to take the pressure for a short second, until it forced her out of the way. With a violent 'pop' she opened, revealing the Gryffindor common room, and a few very confused looking students.

            "How did you learn to do that?" Hermione asked, as she walked in.

            "Voldemort." Harry said shortly. Hermione tripped and fell. Her arms broke her fall, and she slowly got up. She was really in a poor state. Harry took his trunk out of his pocket and enlarged it, While Hermione found the nearest chair. She watched Harry rummage around in it until he extracted a small vile of a translucent green potion. He handed it to her. "Take a sip. It'll get you enough energy to get down to the Great Hall." She obeyed him, and he sealed the vile and returned it into his trunk. He shrunk the trunk and returned it to his pocket. Now nearly the entire common room was watching them. 

            Harry didn't know this, but Hermione and Ron had been dating, and Hermione had recently broken it off, after only one month. Everyone was looking for any reason to believe that Harry was behind it. Everyone but Ginny. As Hermione regained her strength Harry took her supplies up to her dorm, and returned to see her standing and examining her arm. 

            "Wow, that really is incredible. Your snake, I mean." Hermione said, as she fingered where the paper cut once was. Her skin was a little sore, but there was no evidence of the cut ever being there.

            "I know. I was thinking of trying to harvest some from Agni. Maybe I could donate it to Madame Pomfrey for special cases where it could be helpful." Harry said as they exited the common room, and started down to the Great Hall. Hermione turned to try to close the Fat Lady's portrait. "It's no use, Dumbledore has to do it. Come on. The potion I gave you won't last that long." Hermione consented, and after sending the Fat Lady an apologetic glance, she jogged up to where Harry was and they continued on their slow march to lunch.

            "Giving some of it to Madame Pomfrey would be really kind, and thoughtless, Harry." She didn't mention that that was what she thought of him.

            "I suppose, I just don't think that she would know when to use it, and I really don't know when it should be used either. It's very strong, and even more rare. Who knows what kind of side effects it may have on people that don't really need it" Harry smiled when Hermione sent him a worried glance. "'thought that would catch your attention." She slapped his arm playfully, and noticed it was lower than it had been last time she'd seen him. She was getting taller that was it. There was no possible way Harry could be getting shorter. As they entered the Great Hall, Harry saw Snape complaining to Dumbledore, accentuating his points by waving a knife around in the air.

            "Harry, is it possible I could borrow _Hogwarts: Rules and Regulations for Staff and Students_, from you?" Hermione didn't really know it existed, but upon thought, she realized that it was foolish to overlook such a thing.

            "I suppose, but you would never need it. Fred and George, now I'm _sure they could use it" Harry let a smile twitch at the corners of his mouth. "Did anything ever happen with the, ahhh, picture of Malfoy, you know…" Harry asked, wanting to know what he'd missed Hermione let out a soft snort as they seated themselves at the Gryffindor table._

            "They are getting better at their tricks. The posted it in every common room in the entire school (_Wow, all four?_), And they even got it on the floor of the Entrance Hall. Malfoy was so humiliated his father sued, quietly of course. I heard it from Professor McGonagal. After five days the pictures disappeared. I know no one could figure out how to take them off, so I think they made Fred and George do it. The have a month of detentions with Filch. The worst of it that Filch seems to really hate all Malfoys, so he warmed up to them, and they sit around drinking and telling stories, according to Seamus who was walking by one night. It's really weird." Hermione filled her goblet with pumpkin juice, and began to sip it slowly. She rolled her eyes when Harry filled her bowl with the roasted onion soup, and filled her plate with the assorted pasta's on the table. It seemed his wand appeared in his hand and he muttered "_Supperious Finitum." She didn't feel anything, and looked at him confounded. _

            "It's very popular with wizarding parents who wand their kids to eat healthy." She still looked funny. It was rare to see her confused. "You can't leave the table until you finish everything on your plate. I _mean_ everything. I have to talk with Moody. I'll see you later, or at dinner if you decide that you've had enough to eat and refuse to finish it." She looked like she had been violated. 

            "Oh," Harry continued, "and there is no counter curse, so if it takes you till breakfast to finish it, then that's when you'll get to leave. Have fun." He winked mischievously at her and left the Great Hall. She turned to the food he had placed on her plate.

            "I haven't eaten this much since I've gotten here." She mumbled.

            "What was that?" Asked Parvati, as she sat next to Hermione.

            "Nothing. Nothing at all."

Alright. Now a word for my friendly reviewers.

**Larrykoopa**- I don not know how long this story will be, in words, but I know the upcoming events and the ending. This will not be a "voldie, and everyone had a happy ending" fanfic. It is too cliched. Thank you for reviewing. I know my first review was exciting. Thanks for your support, and I hope you enjoy the rest of my story.

**Harry and Hermione's daughter**- Don't worry about not reviewing every chapter. As long as I hear from you every once in a while, I'll be ok. BTW, thank you for reading my other fic as well. I'm thinking of doing a 2:1 ratio in updates between them. For every two updates on **Like a Phoenix, I will do one on ****Seven Breaths.**

**Angel**- Hermione really doesn't see it that way. She sees it in the way of 'He can't use me any longer, so he has no reason to like me whatsoever' and from him, it's simply not true. He wants to protect her, but being protected also can feel like being controlled, and Hermione also does not want to be controlled.

**NAPPA**- So you want revenge on Pettigrew. Don't we all? I have something better for him. He will be locked up for a while, and then revenge simply won't be necessary. BTW, Pettigrew really didn't do those things to Lilly. He was too cowardly to show up when he felt his tattoo vanish. He was just trying to piss Harry off. Make him loose his composure. He didn't expect Harry to snap, and snap was followed by crackle and pop. Peter was caught, and we go on with the story. Harry is only getting shorter till a little before the climax. And there is nothing between Minnie and Moody. Moody is just a tease. He was an auror, and was trained to get a rise out of people. He is just annoying her. We will learn a little of Moody's love life next chapter. Oh, and if you had the time, Nappa, could you read my other fic, I would like to know what you think of it.

**Zoot Vampiric Vampire**- A dog eat dog world you say. I say that was a damn good song by The Offspring. I think you are missing Harry's deep down personality here when you say he would use something more serious. He just wants to do enough to be safe, and does not want to harm any of them (minus peter) more than he absolutely has to. Plus it was mostly a reflex. You don't plan a reflex with a hard spell. You automatically use the easiest thing that works. And don't worry about voicing your beliefs, at least some one does glares at everyone else but you and Nappa. This will not really be a "dark" Harry fic, more like a Harry on the run, but enjoying the most of life by breaking all the rules, while enforcing some of his own. As we see in this chapter, he already is breaking from the expectations of him from society. Oh, when there is Animagi training, you'll know it. It'll come up shortly. Thanks for reading.

**Hillarie**- You must remember that when you compliment me on how a "17 yr. old guys can possess the talent to write HP romances" you must understand that I am a romantic. I don't see the world as most guys my age. I know what the normal train of thought is for us guys, but you have to understand, we are all unique just like you girls, and we all see things differently.


	25. Interview With a Madman, Then Meeting An...

            Harry knocked twice on the door. He supposed that Moody would be eating lunch just like everyone else, and wanted to be as kind as possible in case he disturbed the man.

            "Enter" came the growl from the office. Harry opened the door just enough to slip in. He didn't know what it was, but it was becoming a habit. Maybe he was subconsciously becoming paranoid. "Ahoy, lad. Have a seat" Moody snarled. It was a friendly snarl. "What can I help you with?" Harry really didn't know what he needed help with, so he figured he'd start with the obvious.

            "I was hoping that I could receive training on dueling, and defending against dark magic. I read the entire auror's handbook, but, well, practice is very different from knowledge." Moody was munching loudly on what appeared to be a sandwich on a very hard and very crusty bread. 

            "I can't, laddy. I have enough making up this year as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, and to top it off, I'm too old. Never thought the numbers would catch up with me. No lad or lass does, but it happens. Eventually it does." Moody took another large mouthful of his sandwich and munched messily. Pieces of crust flying everywhere, and piling up on the desk.

            "Oh," Harry said while getting up. "Thank you for your time, Professor." Harry made it back to the door and turned around. "Does it really get better? I mean, with the killing?" Moody sat back comfortably.

            "Put your arse in the seat." Harry obeyed. Moody put the last piece of his sandwich into his mouth and chewed a few seconds before swallowing it down. Moody stood and walked around his desk, until he was between it and Harry. He leant back against the flimsy wood piece of furniture, and looked at Harry carefully. "This here is the best advice I could give yeh. Back in twenty five? No twenty seven. That's right, twenty seven. I was on my second mission as an auror and we got found out before we had a chance. Now we were a strong bunch of lads, and we stayed together and won. It was a terrible cost. We lost one. I lost my eye. A dozen others were life threatening hurt. We were so cornered, we resorted to the unforgivables. Killen' and stabbin' and beaten' and hurtin'. Damn, those were some good times…anyway, so it was horrific. We musta killed, and I mean killed at least twenty of 'em. There was blood everywhere. The smell of death in the air…" Moody looked strangely euphoric, and it was frightening "…we had won on our last legs, and we brought all the bastards down to the ministry, and 'BOOM,' Overnight we were known by half the wizardin' world. Anyway, most of us was messed up pretty bed, yeh know, in the head. So some did nothin', and some tried everythin', but I quickly found out the cure. I found the cutest lass who was willing to talk with me, and she took me back to her place. She screamed so loud…" by now it was not possible to hide the wide smile on Moody's face, "…that the neighbors thought someone died, they did. She screamed and yelled and moaned like I never heard a girl moan before. It was the best night of my life. The next morning. Damn, the next morning was hell. I woke up and saw her tight little body laying there all cozy and like, and I threw on some clothes, just 'nough to cover the necessaries, and went off to find the bathroom. I walked out of her door and smacked right into the scariest man I have ever met. I knew him beforehand, o' course, but the look on his face. I knew I wasn't going to live five more minutes. He had nearly everything in the room pop from his anger. He was one scary bastard. The only reason I lived was because I noticed his clothes were in the same condition as mine. He had the same idea as me, and I laughed about it. He caught on but didn't see it as half as funny as I did. You see, Albus never liked it when someone shagged his sister. He-"

            "You slept with Dumbledore's sister!?!?" Harry had not expected that.

            "Yup, I suppose I did. I was lucky to get away with my life. He had gotten the same amount of action I did. In fact, of the twenty two of us, the only eight who never went insane with guilt and fear got laid our first night back. I don't think it was a coincidence. Now, I noticed you're quite the hunk about with the ladies, and they seem to fancy you. Just pick one you don't really care for, but has a nice rack, and take her for a ride. It'll get all the evil outta yeh faster than a Golden Elixir." Harry was absolutely astounded. He had never expected a would-be professor to tell him to have sex for a remedy to his problem. There was just nothing to think of to say. Moody seemed lost in his own thoughts. Harry didn't even try to look for an answer. There had to be another way of stopping it from getting to him to snap. 'Lets look at this logically' as he supposed Hermione would say. What does sex do? It relieves stress, stimulates the pleasure regions of the brain, and effectively eliminates any feelings of loneliness. Stress. He could exercise or something. Run around. Swim. Next would be…stimulating the pleasure regions of the brain. Now, a it was given that someone made a potion which simulated it. But perhaps the results would be less than desirable. He could deal with that later. Finally, there was the loneliness. He did have Agni, but he inferred that curling up with a snake after running and taking a pleasure potion would not be so……appropriate, or effective.

            "What are yeh thinkin' 'bout? The lucky lass?" Moody cut into Harry's thought. And Harry had a new development. What in bloody hell was he doing? Had he sunk so low that he would sleep with any random girl just so he wouldn't go insane. He was of a strong will. He wouldn't go insane if he wouldn't let himself. No, he would beat this on his own. And thinking about it, it was only the loneliness that posed any kind of a challenge. But he would get through it fine. He didn't need sex. H was too young anyway. Only fifteen. Sure he had those urges, and those instances in the early morning when he thought it would make a rather nice sundial, but it was mind over matter, and he would force his mind to beat it.

            "Come to think of it, Albus was never an angel in his younger years either…" Moody continued, apparently to himself, "… I remember, way back in nineteen thirty two, I think it was. I was hanging out at the new years party in Diagon Ally. We were all around the fountain yelling a few minutes after the new year. Albus was trashed from the cheering potions he'd been chugging. Of course he didn't know they were cheering potions, but we won't grant him that. He was laying flat on his back on the ground when a nerdy looking girl with thick glasses, ahem 'fell' onto his nether-regions. Albus didn't seem to mind. I fact, he rather enjoyed it as they made it right there on the street in Diagon Ally. I knew the name of that bat, too. A ditzy one, really into the mystical and what not. She was a few years above me at school…Trelawney, that's it. Her first name had an S, I think. She was a crazy one. I remember that. Afterward we painted them both when they passed out. We tied their hairs together, so when the woke up, they couldn't get more than three inches from each other. Oh it was brilliant. The best part was that Dumbledore thought she did it, and nearly curse all of her hair to fall off. Oh my, we were laughing so hard I thought I was going to die. Here's a reminder, boy. Never drink a laughing draught when something funny is happening. It'll kill you faster that the killing curse." Harry couldn't help but let a small chuckle come out. Dumbledore was actually a youngster once. That was amazing. "Oh, and then this other time, we bet him a hundred Galleons that he couldn't shag a very attractive girl we'd found. She was a gorgeous woman. Nice size melons, slender figure, in a dress that flowed to the ground. We all would have like a shot at her, but a friend of mine, Herman, he seemed to know who she was and bet Albus on hundred galleons he couldn't get her in the sack. Albus took the bet and as soon as he introduced himself, she introduced herself as his _cousin_. You should have seen the look on his face. Oh, it was priceless. I wish I had a picture of that one. He turned so red in the face, he looked like a cherry with a nose. Bloody amazing. The poor girl had no idea what was going on, and started panicking. There was a whole outcry and it was a bloody mess. We enjoyed every second of it. The best part was when Albus paid up. He was so humiliated. He had to be the most fun person there was to tease. He only reacted if you got him bad, so we tried more than anything. Oh, bloody amazing." Moody finished with a sigh. Tear were coming out of his eyes from holding back laughter.

            "Didn't you ever think that maybe your teasing would have a bad affect on him?" Moody looked scandalized.

            "Bad affect? Look at the man now, the most worshiped wizard in the world, behind you. I think we did a right proper job with him." Harry just shook his head smirking. He was very glad he came. He needed the laughs. "Oh, I just remembered. Ludwig Schmidt, he recently retired. He was a German auror who moved here a few decades back. If you need an auror trainer, he's your man. I will warn you though. He dabbles in dark arts, for his own experimental purposes. He doesn't harm anyone or anything, so if you see anything, jus' ignore it. The man is brilliant. I'll send you to him when you leave. When's that gunna be?" Moody inquired.

"Tomorrow. I need to sort out a few things first" Harry sighed. Being brought back to reality wasn't worth it.

"Like?" Moody pushed.

"I need to see what's happening with Pettigrew. I need to see that Hermione gets in the habit of eating. I need to find a place to live. I need to get my Firesnake from Gryffindor tower, and I would like to see Professor Dumbledore before I go" Harry said.

"It's good to state your goals before you start on 'em. Makes yeh more likely to follow 'em through. Wonderful thing 'bout Albus. Any other man would deny it, but not Albus. He'll tell yeh the truth, just make it hard as hell to make sense of it" Moody snorted. Harry shook his hand as he rose from his seat. He pulled out a manila envelope and Handed it to Moony. 

"I've taken some precautions, actually on my way to your office here. I have in there, a will, for my meager possessions, _just_ in case anything happens to me. Also I have a parchment while will always have the location of my brain, in both humanistic and co-ordinate terms." Harry said solemnly. Moody looked a bit puzzled. "Like, it has both _Ten Wilbur Road _ as well as _65° 22' 13" N, 2° 05' 08" W. That way you can always find me. I was going to give it to Hermione, but I know she cannot be trusted." Harry finished. Moody looked at him queerly._

"How do you mean?" 

"She'd open it just to know where I am. It is not to be opened unless absolutely necessary. An I mean, absolutely necessary." Moody seemed unruffled. "I mean life threatening" Harry added.

"Just who's life are we talkin' 'bout?" Moody asked with a sly grin. Harry looked away and his eyes unfocused.

"Anyone's who you people can't save" Harry said softly. 

"Well, I'll tell ya somethin', I knew this man named Wrigfeld. Good man. He was a mass murderer, but just about the nicest mass murderer you ever met. When yeh couldn't save someone's life, he took it for 'em. When he became sick, and was gunna lay with the worms, he decided he was gunna go out his own way. Tried to summon some fire to test out a charm he was making. The bastard was testin', 'cause he knew it wasn't gunna work, and knew he was goin' to die in the process. We all watched him do it. He did the last step and **_BOOM_!!! The bloody thing exploded. He stood up and looked around. Countin' his lucky stars, he walks over to use, and he says 'Mates, if I'm alive, I did the whole bloody thing wrong.' We's smilin', 'til  a large chuck from the cauldron falls on his head. His body was crushed like a grape, and his parts flew all over the place. They buried him in a large vase. 'think some reckoned it was cruel to the worms to let them eat him." Moody was laughing full blast now. Harry now discovered the vital difference between Moody and the impersonator of the prior year. The _real_ Moody was a hell of a lot more interesting, if not vile, cruel, disgusting, nauseating and amusing. Definitely more amusing.**

"This was a really, _fascinating, experience, but I must get moving now. I have bunches to do. And didn't you say you'd have me see Ludwig Smith, for training?" Harry was beginning to feel hungry himself. He could always go down to the kitchens if he missed lunch. In fact he preferred that route. But he didn't think his stomach could hold on much longer._

"Schmidt. Schmidt, Harry. It's German. Yeah. He lived in Germany for a while. You know, Germany, it's a country on the mainland. They drink lots of be-"

"Oh, bugger off. I know what the hell Germany is. Are you going to tell me where to find him or not?" Harry scowled.

"Yeah. Good ole Schmidt, or Shit for short, he'll be at the Three Broomsticks tomorrow at around lunchtime" Moody smirked. Harry got up and nodded a good-bye before leaving. He didn't want Moody to be able to say anything else. Harry went to the Great Hall. It was beginning to empty out, but he pleasantly noticed that Hermione was no longer there. She had eaten. What she didn't know, was that the curse lasted for two weeks, and as long as caring people filled her plate, she wouldn't go hungry. Harry swaggered downstairs too the kitchens to get a bit to munch on. He found the portrait of fruit and tickled the pear, as was necessary. He was stunned at the sight that met his eyes as he opened the doorway. The elves were running around like a school of fish under a shark attack. Most were covered in ash, and others were what appeared to be carrying around fires. Harry grabbed the nearest elf.

"What happened?" Harry said in the softest tone he could use to keep his volume above the clatter.

"The soup fell in the fire, sir!" the creature squeaked before running off. Harry shook his head and made his presence known.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            Harry entered the Three Broomsticks in a foul mood. Hermione didn't take it well that he was leaving. Again. But hell, life went on. She just had such an issue with holding onto lost articles. She never seemed to let go. He honestly wondered if he should have written a short story for her to read it in. Maybe she'd understand. It's not like he was knocking on Voldemort's front door, asking for a fair fight. He was going for bloody training. He couldn't think of her reaction when…if he ever told her he was going after Voldemort. When he thought about it, Voldemort wasn't such a bad guy. He had killed a little over a thousand people, yes, but you have to break the glass to get the ship inside. He had made sacrifices, and wouldn't let anyone in his way. That, and he held a vengeance for a long time. Other than that, he just wanted to rule the world. Was that too much to ask. Maybe they should just let him. Perhaps he'd get bored with it, it would loose it's novelty. That's the problem with ambitious people, one they get to the top, they have nothing more to do. 

            Harry realized he had been standing in the middle of the restaurant for a few minutes, and decided to look around. He was told to look for someone "totally into the blue." Not out of the blue, into the blue. They he was. Harry saw an older looking gentleman wearing a bold blue robe. He had on a matching blue hat, which had a teal feather. The man's wand was blue, as were his eyes, his slacks, and his shoes. Hell, the drink he had was blue. 

            "What a freak" Harry mumbled under his breath. Regardless, Harry approached the man at the bar, and sat down next to him.

            "You want to learn, eh?" he said in a very strong accent. Harry was surprised at his knowledge and directness.

            "Yes" Harry said quickly, not wanting to look like a fool.

            "Yes, sir!" the man said shortly.

            "Yes, sir!" Harry repeated.

            "You only call me not sir, when you can make me sleep" The man said. He didn't appear to be intoxicated, but who knew what potions they mixed in his drink. Harry figured out what he had to do. He lowered his wand arm under the table, and cautiously whipped it into his hand. He saw the muscle in the mans arm twitch, and knew what would happen. Harry put his left hand up as he drew his right hand with his wand. The man was already turning his wand towards Harry. Harry grabbed the arm of the man, stopping his wand movement. This gave him just enough time to jab his own wand into the man's side, and whisper "_stupefy._" The man slumped off his stool and fell onto the floor in front of Madame Rosmerta, who was carrying a large tray of pitchers of various beverages. She stopped soon enough to avoid tripping on him, but one of the pitches slid off the tray and landed right next to the man's head, covering him in the sweet smelling liquid. She rolled her eyes and said something about 'men who can't handle their own potions' before stepping over him and continuing on her way. Harry snatched the man's wand and examined it. It wasn't made of wood. Rather, it wasn't made of anything at all. Harry's hand went right through it. '_Cool' came to mind. Harry pointed his wand at the man and muttered '_ennervate_.' The man stirred and sat up in surprise. He stood briskly and returned to his seat, while Harry finished off his drink. It was fairy water. Tasty. _

            "Good. You call me anything. Schmidt is my name" The man mumbled, obviously disturbed by something.

            "Or shit for short" Harry said aloud, recalling Moody's comments. The man scowled at Harry.

            "Schmidt is fine enough. We go now. Follow me" Schmidt said. He was even more upset now. Harry wasn't sure this was such a good idea. It would have been a perfect trap. _'If it's my time to die, it's my time to die'_ Harry thought with a small grin. As soon as they were out on the road, Schmidt wiped the drink off his face. He pulled out a thread, and bid Harry to touch it. Harry obeyed, and was in for the ride of his life. 

It was a portkey, of course. They flew over the Forbidden Forest, over hills and mountains, rivers and streams, a herd of deer, and then over the cliffs and above the ocean. Harry was stunned that they were above the ocean. He was sure no portkey could make it entirely across. As soon as the thought came, the portkey took them under water, at stunning speeds, narrowly avoiding fish, both large and small, until it was nearly pitch black. The portkey took them into a cave lighted by glowing creatures. They bounced harshly off the walls until finally they came up through a magical field and fell into a dry cave, deep below the ocean floor. Harry staggered around in dizziness, and saw that the man had no intention of leaving the bleak room they had entered. It was about seventy feet long, and forty feet wide, with a five foot diameter circle in the bottom, where the water was kept below the magical field.

"We start now" Schmidt said. He just threw curses at Harry at a decent pace. Harry blocked nearly all of them, and the ones he could not block he dodge easily. Schmidt seemed vaguely pleased, and started throwing all the curses known to mankind at Harry. Harry was in his element. He was doing as his seeker instincts told him. React. He dove, rolled, crawled, ran, blocked, jumped, ducked, sprinted, and even threw a few curses of his own in retaliation. What did this guy think he was doing? Harry realized he had no time to think as the _'petrificus totalus' narrowly missed his arm. Hesitation was death in the world of dueling, and Harry was not ready to die. Becoming bored with the grunts and countless spells that he just kept avoiding. He was beginning to get tired. He decided to try something new. '__Grappigus' Harry yelled as he aimed his wand carefully at the man's leg. The pants of the man became taught as if a dog had latched it's teeth on and was yanking. Schmidt hesitated just long enough for Harry to enact his plan. Harry carefully dropped Agni to the ground. Agni did his bidding, and in seconds their was a protective flame surrounding Harry. He knew Agni could only maintain it for seven seconds. He was a small Firesnake. Harry took over maintaining the field of fire. It was surprising cold in the flame, but he could see Schmidt using all sorts of Ice and water spells to try to quench the heat. Harry used it to attack. Instead of preserving his ball of fire, or letting it die, he compressed the ball into a small orb and sent it at Schmidt. As it approached it seemed the fire burned itself out, a second before it exploded in an eruption of orange flame. Harry had braced himself to the floor with magic, but the floor had cracked and Harry fell backwards. He checked to make sure Agni was safe back in his pocket. As the smoke cleared, Harry set his feet free from the rock and approached his trainer who was getting to his feet very slowly._

"Good. We move on. You are good with wand. He will be better. You must beat wand without. You must have true strength" Schmidt said in a harsh tone. "You have much work."

"Yeah, I bet I do" Harry grumbled.

"What if you no have snake, eh? You die. You be dead. You no live. Bang, dead. Huh? You have much work." Schmidt snarled. He took Harry into the next room. There were numerous objects in the room. Schmidt went up to a sword and tossed it on the floor. "You lift" Schmidt said. Harry bent down to pick it up. "NO! You lift. Magic." Harry stepped back and took out his wand. "No, no wand" Schmidt said. Harry had attempted wandless magic before, but it had always been in spurts. To lift something he would need consistency. Something he just didn't have. Harry slipped his wand into the sheath, and focused as much as he could He held his hand out to it. Nothing happened. He stood there for ten minutes, twenty. Nothing. Finally he looked up at Schmidt. "You must feel it in head. Like love in bed. Thick about it. Relax about it. Just feel it with head" Harry didn't have any idea what he was talking about, but tried a few new things anyway. None of them worked. Schmidt took Harry's hand and waved it through the air. 

"You must see it in your head. You must feel it with magic. Like a girl in a bed. You must feel in. Feel it in here" Schmidt said while tapping Harry on the forehead.

"I've never been with a girl" Harry said, perhaps louder than he needed to. Schmidt was awestruck. Harry could only assume the words he was saying were curses in German. Finally, he turned back to Harry. 

"You love a girl?" Schmidt said with a subtle smirk. Harry nodded, not really wanting to know what he was getting at.

"You see her in your head. You see her with you, you dream of her?" Harry again nodded slowly in response. Schmidt's hopes seemed to slowly return.

"When you see her in head, you can feel too, yes? You feel her. She not there, but you feel her?" Schmidt guessed. Harry nodded again. He was beginning to worry about possible brain damage with shaking his head.

"It is same. You must be loose. Relax. Breathe. Try with eyes closed. Feel the sword. Let yourself feel it, when it is not there." Harry followed his orders, but when he felt nothing he let his mind wander, and wander it did.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            "…the beauty of becoming an Animagus, is that not only do you gain certain characteristics, but you become free as a wild creature. You loose many of the expectations of you, and can survive in nature significantly better than in your human form…" There was no denying it. It was boring. She already knew of all of this, and the sympathetic looks she was getting from McGonagal only confirmed that she knew it too.

            Hermione closed her eyes and let herself go. She felt a warm tingling on her belly, and ignored it. Slowly, the tingling became more substantial, and seemed to take a certain shape. It was on her belly, and part of it moved. It was a hand. She opened her eyes in shock and looked down nothing was there. But she felt it, she could still feel it. She slowly moved her hand to where she felt the warmth of the hand. There was nothing there, but she could feel it. It fascinated her. She was being touched by no one, but feeling it. She became absorbed in sensing it, to the point of closing her eyes and enjoying it. The hand began to move, and she sighed comfortably. 

            "Hermione?" 

            "WHAT?" Hermione screamed as she jumped up. She quickly became flushed and looked around. It had to have been a dream. But she knew it was real. Something had happened. She had no idea what, but she knew, somehow it was important. "S-sorry professor. May I please speak with the Headmaster?" Hermione thought he should know. Even if it was insignificant, and she was just being paranoid, she had to tell Dumbledore. Hermione received a curt nod from Professor McGonagal, and gathered her books and left. She walked briskly towards the hall of the gargoyle.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            "Whoa. That was amazing" Harry exclaimed as he opened his eyes. It was like he had really been there with her, and she had let him do it, and- a cough reminded Harry he was not alone. "Sorry sir, I mean, shit, I mean, Schmidt" Harry said nervously. 

            "You did it. I could feel it. But you didn't do it here. Now that you know how, do on the sword" Schmidt almost seemed pleased. Harry returned to his feet, his mood filled with vigor. He closed his eyes, and let himself relax. He let his eyes open, and had his hand feel the sword. Sense it's cold steel, touch it's sharp blade, feel it's weight. His hand began to feel it. To know it. He grasped what he was feeling, and found his hand was still in the open position, despite it feeling like it was wrapped around the blade. He lifted his arm in his mind, but his arm stayed in place. The sword, however, slowly lifted itself, and hovered a few feet off the ground. Harry had his other hand grab the hilt, and hold it upright. His hands didn't move, but the sword turned into an upright position. Harry felt himself take a few steps. He never moved, but the sword did. He had his feeling hands swing the sword around, and behold, it swung. Harry's eyes were wide in surprise, but not nearly as wide as Schmidt's. Schmidt looked like it was the first time he could see. Harry let the sword go, and it clattered to the ground. Schmidt approached him slowly.

            "Good. Very good" Schmidt said as he started leading Harry into the next room.

            "What am I going to do now?" Harry asked, now wanting more than ever to progress.

            "Now, my boy, we drink."

Yay, one more chapter out. Ok. I took my health and english midterms. On english I got an 88. That's respectable, considering my teacher is a decedent of the Salem Witches. Weird. Here goes to all my beloved (meaning of my real name) reviewers.

**Shdurrani**- Harry will come back on occasion, until Hermione goes out to get him. Don't want to reveal too much. The H/Hr won't happen till the end. If I could have realistically inserted it earlier, I would have. Sorry. Thanks for reviewing.

**Zoot Vampiric Vampire**- I will do more with rebel Harry, but rebel Harry won't really be a rebel for the usual causes. He won't do it for show or popularity, or even for fun. He'll do it because it is what he feels is right, and if it requires breaking rules so be it. I won't get into Peter's case until later. He needs time to, what word does my teacher use? Simmer. Peter will simmer in his own pot of $&!#. Thanks for reviewing.

**NAPPA**- I am happy I have grabbed your attention. It's nice to know even an insignificant guy like me can be noticed. Thanks for repeatedly reviewing. 

**Confused**- I can't tell you why he's getting shorter until later on. I would, but it happens at a pivotal point in the story. 

**Silverleaf**- You are correct, that magic is undetectable in the floo. It would be like trying to find a molecule of water in orange juice. Yes, Harry can only do it short distances, so we think. There will be some clarification later on. It should be relatively soon. I think people are having a hard time grasping my style. If it doesn't make sense, it'll be important later. Thanks for reviewing.

**Bob33**- Yes she did. But do you think her "crush" of Harry is going to stop Ron? Hell no, and with Harry on Hermione's bad side, it would only be time before she would shop around. Ron wanted to be there first, was there first, and got the first shot. He wasn't so succesful, though.

**Everyone else, Thank you for reviewing as well. Have a Happy Day, and I wish you all Happy Reading**.


	26. Coming and Going

            "Now, try this. No arms. Just head" Schmidt said. He had levitated a boulder into the center of the room. Harry had used it a while ago with wandless magic. He was now on handless magic. He supposed that he was here five days already, because he had four periods of sleep, but in the darkness and torchlight of the deep Atlantic caves, he really had no idea. Three times they had to stop training because Harry had fits of visions. Harry took a few minutes to have Dumbledore send aurors to the Department of Safety in the Ministry of magic. Dumbledore had called back and said that there were no casualties, minimal damage, but no one was captured. Pity. This was all in the past. Right now he had a nine thousand kilogram boulder sitting in front of him, waiting to be lifted. Harry had learned quickly he couldn't use his projected strength, as he had done with smaller objects, as there was no way he could see himself physically lifting the rough cut stone. So he had to let his magic do it, not his will. 

            Harry focused his eyes on the object, and let his magic become aware of his surroundings. He could tell every nick in the walls, every crack, he was aware of every inconsistency, and every object. He knew the world around him better than he knew his own body. He let his eyes become unfocused, and let his magic squeeze around the boulder. It squeezed underneath it and lifted it smoothly into the air. He had it float around slowly, before accelerating it. He had it make sharp turns and total about-faces. He made it go faster and faster, testing his limits. He couldn't see it, but he felt a face of fear appear on his mentor's face. He wasn't very confident, the first rule he was taught, formally, was that confidence in a duel was everything. Enter the ring with the slightest doubt, and the more refined duelers would force it to grow until it would consume you, and ultimately defeat you. Confidence was everything, and Harry, luckily, didn't need to work hard to make his flawless, to the point of near arrogance. However, he was still able to tell the difference. 

            By now, the rock was moving faster than Harry had ever flown on his broom during any Quidditch match. The movement of air around the stone was so great, that gale-like winds began ripping at their clothes, and painfully blew against their eyes. Harry finally had enough, and suddenly stopped the boulder, binging it slowly to the floor. Schmidt was smiling plainly. Harry was the fastest study he ever had, as well as the most powerful. He knew the boy thought he'd been here for five days, but in reality…Schmidt checked his watch, it had been her for eleven. The non-stop work had made the time fly. He had given the boy the basics. There was nothing more to teach him. Sure the kid needed tons of refinement and fine-tuning, but he knew enough to be able to do that on his own.  
            Harry watched his mentor as he was deep in thought. He was wondering what he was going to do next. Hopefully lunch. Food and furniture seemed to be the only things in short supply in this place. Harry waited for a few minutes, before coughing quietly. Schmidt turned his eyes slowly towards Harry. Harry noticed the hint of pride and accomplishment there.

            "You go now. I am done with you. You know everything you need. Just practice, every day. You will become master. You will beat him. He will die. You are strong. Be careful. He will lay tricks on you. You must trust yourself. Above all, trust yourself. Be confident. You will vanquish him. Be well" Schmidt said. There was an obvious sadness lingering. An end must come to all things, and Schmidt looked carefully at a shoe. Harry knew what to do. He knelt near the shoe, and nodded one last good-bye, and placed his hand on the shoe. There was a sudden pull, and a twisting and banging as he flew through the cave, into the water, through the darkness, until he flew over the surface and onto the land. He went over fields and shielded his eyes from the sun. It was bright, and in the evening sky. Finally the portkey let him down in the same exact place he had departed from those five, he thought. He stood up and looked around. Everything seemed so far away now, like a dream. He found the nearest pebble and tried to lift it. He struggled with his focus, and in aggravation, as soon as he succeeded, the pebble shot into the air at a ridiculous speed. So he only needed to practice. To perfect it. He figured he should try to get it done as soon as possible. Delaying could only have negative effects.

            Harry walked around the lake, watching the squid lazily swim on the surface. Harry got an idea, and put his skills to the test. Slowly, at first, the squid began to hover out of the water. It was like the scene out of an alien movie. The creature just kept going at it's business, as it rose significantly into the air. Finally, Harry tipped it so the most aerodynamic part of the squid, the head, was facing down towards the water. The Harry let it go. It fell with gravity, and with a small splash it went under. Harry flashed a short, meager smile, and continued lazily around the lake. He didn't know why he took this long route. Maybe to organize his thoughts. Maybe to adjust to the painful light. It was now that he realized the darkness of the caves. Starting on the boredom, he began skipping stones with his newfound talent. He was surprised at how much easier it was with wandless magic, than by hand. Maybe it was because he could control the stone after it was tossed. The beauty was in the purity. Pure magic was unlike anything he had ever felt. It gave a rush while and an awareness, while providing exhaustion. But the exhaustion passed quickly, and the rush, well, it lasted awhile. 

            Forty stones later, Harry was near enough to the main doors, and Harry scaled the stairs towards it. He stopped just outside and wondered what he was doing, coming back here. He had no need to return here. He needed a place to live. A place to sleep. A place to salvage what little he had left of his life. But he still owed people, just a little bit, and he was going to be damned if he left matters unsettled. First stop, Gryffindor common room. 

            Harry entered and started up the countless stair cases. He took the normal turns, and wandered down some familiar corridors. He knew he wouldn't be here for a while, if he had his way. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew it wouldn't be such a nice place. And he didn't plan on coming back. Not the he wasn't going to, he just didn't plan it. It would have to…happen.

            "Good afternoon to you, Mr. Potter" Albus Dumbledore said as he appeared behind Harry. Harry supposed he should have been surprised, but he wasn't easily surprised any longer.

            "Headmaster" Harry said in greeting. This just took one of his matters off his list. 

            "You will keep in touch, right Harry?" Dumbledore said, through a sigh of defeat.

            "When it is necessary, yes. I don't expect you'll hear from me often, though. There are some things I will have to face on my own. If you'll excuse me, I have some farewells to get done with" Harry said. There was to contempt, no sorrow, no happiness in his voice. It was just explanatory, and it was all it needed to be. Dumbledore nodded, and walked away from Harry. It seemed to be the first time Harry ever saw him sad. He had been grave, and sorrowful, but he had never been sad before. It was very unusual, and very disturbing.

            Harry didn't want to think about it. It would only create doubt and regret, and that would grow on him, and become a weakness. All he had to do was finish his good-byes, and get going. He didn't know where he was going to go, or what he was going to do. He just, had to get away, see what was wrong, and remedy the problem. Not the problem of the wizarding world, but the problem of his own head. Too many horrible, unacceptable thoughts had been formed, and he had to clear them out. He knew more than anyone, he was loosing himself, and if he did…he didn't want to know the consequences. He finally made it to the portrait of the Fat Lady. She was knitting, and looked at him disapprovingly.

            "Oh no, young man. I've reported you, you know. Don't even dare think about it" Harry just couldn't hold back the grin.

            "If you don't let me in, you give me no other option" Harry said. He really didn't want to force her to open. It would ruin any surprise he could have. By now everyone knew that Harry could open the portrait without the password. If the portrait was forced open, and unable to close, they would know he was here. He didn't want anyone to know he was here. The Fat Lady seemed to be stuck in a dilemma herself. She technically wasn't allowed to let him in, but if he was going to get in anyway, what was the purpose?

            "Fine, but you don't do anything evil, and you don't tell anyone" she said in an intimidating voice. Harry was unmoved.

            "Sure" he said lazily. She opened for him, and he slipped inside, closing her gently behind him. He took Agni out of his pocket, and tossed the creature into the roaring fire. Harry heard a 'thanks' as he found the darkest corner of the Gryffindor common room, and put out the torch nearby, turning the corner in a very dark place. Harry took one of the armchairs and place it facing out of the corner, and created a small sofa facing him, and blocking him from view. He waited patiently, until he heard the portrait open. The students would be dropping off their books before going to dinner. He would have to abduct a few of them. He saw Ron walk in with Seamus and Dean. He used his power to have Ron turn and come towards him. Dean and Seamus looked almost as confused as Ron, but began to follow him anyway. Harry forced Seamus and Dean to go back in the direction they had been going, and up towards the boy's dormitories. As Ron made his way towards Harry, Harry caught sight of Hermione entering with Neville. She looked similar to the way she looked during third year. She looked tired and worn out. She wasn't sleeping. He pulled her over to him as well. Neville looked curiously as she seemed to be moving in a direction against the will of her feet, and began to ask her something, before Neville got the sudden urge to drop off his books. It was an overwhelming urge, and he couldn't refuse it. 

            Harry was surprised with his own ability, and that he never knew he had it. In second he had Ron and Hermione sitting across from him. He kept them silent with his abilities, while warding off anyone who came near to them. As the last lingering students went down for dinner, he released Hermione and Ron from the limits he put on them.

            "What is wrong with you!" screamed Ron, "What in bloody hell is going on? You could have just asked me to come over. I'm hungry, I'm going to dinner." Ron jumped up and got two steps away. Hermione saw Harry's hand reach out of his robe, and Ron froze, before walking back and sitting down, with anger bordering on hatred painted on his face. He kept Ron quiet while he spoke.

            "I am not going to take much of your time…" Harry saw Hermione's face fall a little, but she was still attentive. "…I am leaving now, not like five days ago when I left-"

            "Five days ago, where did you go five days ago?" Hermione asked. Her voice sounded dry, like she hadn't been drinking enough. Harry seemed a little confused. He had said good-bye to them when he went to training, how come she didn't remember?

            "I went to training" Harry explained slowly, as if he was trying to remind her of something. Ron looked confused too. Harry let off Ron's silence.

            "You left here more than a week ago. Almost two weeks. What happened five days ago?" Ron said. Hermione seemed lost too. They all were confused.

            "Two weeks?" Harry asked disbelieving. He knew he couldn't tell time down there, but it couldn't have been that long, he surely would have fallen asleep more often.

            "Eleven days, I think" Hermione added. She sounded more interested now, like she had something to look into.

            "Oh," Harry said. He would have to be readjusted. He found his wand in his hand and levitated it up and down. It was a thoughtful habit he acquired while studying in the deep. "Well, that isn't important. I am going to go, and…I am leaving and I am going to do some…I am departing from Hogwarts as soon as physically possible. As soon as I am done with you, I am leaving. I don't know where I am going, and I don't know what exactly I am going to do. All I know is that I am not safe here, and only bring danger to others. Voldemort knows very simple and easy ways into Hogwarts, and has the power to overthrow it now, as we speak,  but he doesn't because he needs me dead first. He'll come after me, so I'll be on the run, much like Sirius, although I think I may take advantage of certain resources in the muggle world which Sirius has ignored. I will be safer there, and I will send owls when I can. Don't worry about me, and I expect you to take care of yourselves. The war will need you both, in the end. You for your intelligence," Harry said to Hermione, "and you for your bursts of power which few can rival." Harry said to Ron, whose face softened, then smiled in pride. "I can't do this alone, but for a while I have to survive so. You both are very important, so don't do anything foolish that will get yourselves hurt or killed. The world needs you both, perhaps more than it needs me. I wish you both a fond farewell, and wish the best for the both of you in your romantic interests…" Hermione sent a sharp glance at Ron who was completely absorbed in Harry's speech. "…and I hope that someday I'll return and we'll all be the closest friends, but I was never one to look too far into the future. Have a nice evening, and a nice time, until I return. Thank you for being my friends." Harry didn't know if this would work, but in theory, with everything he was able to do so far, he couldn't see why it shouldn't. 

            Hermione gasped as Harry turned invisible. Ron looked at her queerly.

            "It's just his cloak" Ron said. Hermione reached forward to the chair Harry had been sitting in. It was warm, but nobody was in it. Ron was in the way of Harry walking away, so they exchanged a look of disbelief.

            Harry found it very amusing, watching from above them, hovering while invisible. He was surprised when Ron and Hermione returned to their seats like he was going to return. Harry couldn't leave until there was no one in the Common room, so He just hovered above them, waiting for them to go. Finally, Hermione turned to Ron.

            "I think he knows" she said softly. Ron didn't react.

            "He should know. What would be the point of keeping it from him anyway?" Ron asked.

            "I don't know, it just doesn't feel right, that he knew and we never told him. I think he still suspects it" Hermione said, as if her words were going to come back and stab her.

            "There's no point in bothering ourselves over it. If he knows, he knows, if he doesn't then we can tell him when we have the chance. It's not our fault he keeps showing up and leaving before we can say anything. What will happen, will happen" Ron said as he stood up, his stomach let out a particularly loud grumble. "I'm going to dinner, you coming?" Hermione took one more glance around the room.

            "Yeah, I'll be down in a few minutes." Ron looked back at her, then walked leisurely to the portrait, and left Harry alone, hovering over Hermione. She was still trying to figure out what had happened to cause Harry to act this way. He wasn't telling them anything about his actions, or his thoughts. He was giving them so little to work with, it was like he was shielding himself from them. As if they saw him as he saw himself, they'd no longer like him. He was hiding, but he wasn't hiding something in particular. He was hiding everything. Hermione was beyond frustration, even dislike, and hate. She was at the same point of view of Harry, and Ron too. Ron had just said 'What will happen, will happen.' Harry kept saying foolish things like that too, but now, she was in a position where there wasn't much for her to do. All she could do was believe that statement, because it was all she was given. She still had a few options though, and for once, she had enough need to use them. She stood up and walked out of the common room. She would go for a small dinner, but her more desirable destination, was the library.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ 

            Harry slowly let himself down, and snatched Agni from the fireplace. Her drew the snake into his pocket, and started to leave. He did feel guilty about leaving, but he knew he would feel worse if his staying got other innocent people hurt. This was his choice, and he had already made up his mind. He figured beforehand, that he should leave them a going away present, or something as a token of his appreciation for them. Words were not really thought highly of any more. Harry opened his cloak and extracted his bent and splintered Firebolt. He opened the nearest window, and leapt out. He mounted in the air and took off for Hogsmeade. 

            The Gryffindor common room was quiet except for the crackle of the blaze in the fireplace. It remained so for ten minute, until a figure came in the open window, and close it behind him. He cam forward and went into the fifth year boy's dormitories. He went to what he guessed was Ron's bed, and lay down a long and thin parcel. As he made his way to the fifth year girl's dormitories, he reflected the difficulty of getting a girl a gift. He didn't want to get anything that suggested anything, just something that meant he cared, and would miss her. He made it to her bed and placed the wrapped parcel on her bed. He sighed heavily and went down to the common room. From there he exited, sending his graciousness to the Fat Lady with his incessant compliments, and then with a heavy mind, wandered down to the entrance hall. He was about to open the door, when a very familiar voice had him stop.

            "You will be missed greatly, I'm afraid, and I do believe I speak for everyone" Dumbledore said as he saw Harry open the door a crack.

            "It doesn't matter. Can I ask you one question, though? It's been bugging me for a while" Harry said, as he closed the door. Dumbledore nodded amiably. "Why is it so hard for me to apperate? I could apperate from room to room at the Dursley's. From the basement to the living room, from my bedroom to the kitchen. I was getting steadily better at it, but it just seemed…really hard." Dumbledore sent Harry a weak smile.

            "I thought this would happen. Apperate up the staircase, over there, Harry" Dumbledore said. The sadness was still there.

            "But, you can't apperate on Hogwarts grounds, there are wards" Harry repeated Hermione's creed.

            "Yes, and the very same wards that surrounded the Dursley's house" Dumbledore explained.

            "I never thought of that" Harry said as he looked at Dumbledore in slight awe, "So I can apperate through wards?" Harry said, slowly.

            "It would certainly seem that way. Why don't you give it a try" Dumbledore sighed. Harry close his eyes, and using some of the increased awareness he discovered with his wandless magic, he mentally pictured his surroundings, and changed them to the stairs. He opened his eyes, and he was there. Atop the staircase looking down at Dumbledore. He close his eyes and tried again, and he appeared right next to the headmaster. 

            "It's surprising. I think deep down, you know, that I wished it was me, the reason I had trouble apperating. It would've let me show the world that I'm not perfect" Harry said as he stared at the doors to the outside.

            "I wouldn't worry about the world thinking that you're perfect. Someone much closer to you has the same feelings" Dumbledore said in his thoughtful voice. He turned and began to walk away. Harry panicked, and turned around sharply.

            "It isn't you is it?!?!" He said louder than he intended. His voice echoed off the large stone room. Dumbledore turned around slowly, with his regular kind smile.

            "No Harry, it isn't me. It will come to you in time. I anticipate hearing from you. Have a safe journey, and I hope it will not be in vain" Dumbledore let out his hand, and his body became invisible. Harry shook his head slowly. Despite rushing to do everything, and get everything done, everything still seemed to be passing him by at a faster speed. Pettigrew was locked up in the dungeons of Hogwarts, though the newspapers said it was the dungeons of the Ministry. Hermione and Ron were together, he thought. Their discussion was hard to make sense of. Dumbledore was afraid for him, but most of all, Harry was afraid for himself.

            He opened the door, and slipped out into the ever darkening night. He mounted his broom, careful to avoid any lingering splinters protruding from the shaft, and kicked off. He didn't know where he was going to spend the night, but for now, all he had to do was fly.

I think this closes part one of the story. I'm not going to have part two as a separate story, rather I will continue as is. The only thing is that now that Harry is really away, the chemistry of the story will change. Harry will begin to loose himself, until he realizes what he must do. So there will be three or four parts. I hope everyone sticks around for them. I also wish that everyone enjoyed this chapter, and the story so far. I have two midterms on Tuesday, so I am not so sure about updating anything before then. Have a nice day, and have a happy reading.

**Sugar Quill**- Reading for 5 hours, watch out for your eyes. I'm glad you enjoy my story.

**Bob33**- Harry will most certainly not become a player. He will be way to busy to mess around with lesser matters. I won't tell NAPPA to do anything. As a writer I know what it is like to be pressured to write and update. NAPPA will update when he is ready, and I won't pressure him.

**Takeda Lee**- Yes Harry will be very small, and only gets smaller. I know you will find a way to deal with it. If it helps at all, Harry will be of about normal stature by the end of the fic. Ohhh, and I just remembered. When I'm done, I also have a six year fic to start on. We'll see, though. We'll see.

**Jarvey**- Thank you Jarvey, glad to know you're enjoying it. If you have any ideas about where you want my story to go, just tell me.

**Zoot Vampiric Vampire**- I understand your dislike to the movie. In my life I have seen my share of terrible films. Thank you for two reviews. That was kind, but just one question. Have you been eating any special brownies, because you seemed a little, off in your review.

**CyberfrogX**- Thank you for your input. Glad to see you here chapter after chapter.

**Thank you everyone, for reviewing. Have a wonderful day, evening, and night. If only the Giants made it to the Super Bowl. Oh well.**


	27. The Holloween Ball

            Hermione viciously read through the headlines on the Daily Prophet. She was searching, searching for any shred of information pertaining to Harry's whereabouts. She had brought her stack with her to breakfast. China, India, America, Columbia, France, Germany, Armenia, Israel, Saudi Arabia… The list went on. Harry had been very busy in the last few weeks, and it was unlikely he was coming back. There had been no direct attacks from HIM, but there had been other things that seemed very suspicious, and Harry was probably in danger. He would be safe at Hogwarts, and he would be coming back. Yes he would. Because Hermione Granger had a plan.

            "Would you stop it already?" groaned Lavender, as she pushed Hermione's papers away. Hermione just glared. It was all she ever needed. Hermione returned to her newspaper. This one had nothing suspicious in it. She folded it up and destroyed it with her wand. She wouldn't be caught polluting. Finally satisfied with her work this morning, she glanced up and down the table. Lavender and Parvati were giggling out of control with Ginny. It was quite pathetic. Although, she couldn't say she wasn't at all interested in what they were say "…and it had this unbelievably silk. The softest fabric you could ever touch, and it's warm, and I had the woman take it in around my back to make my breasts more prominent. It really is a splendid dress. I can't wait to put it on…" Hermione snickered at their remarks. Getting all messed up about clothing was just silly. She turned to looked down the other end of the table as Ron slid in next to her. She looked at him quizzically. They had stopped talking to each other, and him sitting next to her meant something was going on.

            "Look, Hermione, I know we weren't the best…couple, but I was thinking that we were always good friends, and I don't want to make you feel uncomfortable, so you can always say no, if you want, but I was wondering if, you could, well, you know. If we could-" Ron began.

            "Out with it, Weasley" Hermione said. He had taken her patience to the limit weeks ago, and she wasn't going for any of his crap.

            "I wanted to know if you would go to the Ball with me, as friends, of course" Ron finished. He looked like a kid watching the cookie jar, waiting for it either to fall and show it's treasure, or be taken away.

            "Ball?" was the only word that Hermione could express.

            "Um, yeah. The one tonight. The Holloween Ball?" Ron said. Hermione was totally baffled. She didn't know that there was a Ball tonight. '_Maybe if you paid a little more attention to your surroundings…' she chastised herself. _

            "Yeah, Ron. Fine. But ONLY, as friends" Hermione finished. Ron beamed at her, and gave her a small hug. The touch of another person was not altogether unwelcomed. Ron got up to leave, but a cold drawl stopped him.

            "How touching, the muggle-lover has found himself a mudblood. Crabbe, give me your hanky, I think I'm going to cry" Malfoy sneered. His piercing eyes darted down the table for a flash. Hermione checked to see what he was looking at. Nothing seemed out of place.

            "Sod off, Malfoy. No one likes you, or your cowardice" Hermione spat. She knew she said something wrong as soon as the grin appeared on his face.

            "Cowardice you say. I say the person with real cowardice was too afraid to even come back. He couldn't even take one more year with the guilt he has for killing Cedric Diggory." A wave of gasps filled the air, followed by total silence. 

            "Mr. Malfoy…" Hermione had never heard the Headmaster sound so angry, "…you will refrain from suggesting any such notion, especially, when you know better. And if you feel the need to slander Mr. Potter, I suggest you hold yourself until this evening. Good Day!" Malfoy knew he was being dismissed, and he lowered his head, his face turning bright red. He turned and proudly walked out of the circle he had created. Hermione was still reeling from the experience, and didn't notice when the Headmaster put his hand on her shoulder.

            "This goes for all of you. No one, shall insult the memory of Cedric Diggory while I am headmaster. If you feel the need, I suggest you take a holiday. Even insinuating that Mr. Potter was involved with be interpreted as disrespectful, and the result will be expulsion" Dumbledore finished. "Enjoy the rest of the day" he said in his good mannered voice. The silence of the crowd was quickly destroyed, as all the students departed; some to their common rooms, some to Hogsmeade, and some to nowhere in particular. Hermione, upon realizing that she didn't have a dress, went to Hogsmeade alone. 

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            "How do I look?" Hermione asked as she exited the bathroom. Lavender and Parvati both turned their heads.

            "You look…nice" Parvati said, while sending a worried glance towards Lavender. Lavender dug into her cosmetics kit and took out a small vial. She walked over to Hermione as Parvati went back to working on her hair.

            "Take this" Lavender said, "It'll take away the circles under your eyes. I know you don't like make-up so much, but this will help." Hermione looked into Lavender's eyes, and Lavender nodded. Hermione took it, and with one swift gulp she downed the sour beverage. She felt a tingling around her eyes, and her entire face relaxed.

            "Thank you, Lav" Hermione said, letting a small smile slip through her face.

            "My pleasure" smiled Lavender in return. Hermione went back into the bathroom to work on her hair. Parvati went over to Lavender.

            "What are the side effects?" Parvati asked in a hushed whisper.

            "Oh, it'll only lighten her mood. This one's all natural. Made somewhere in France" Lavender responded. Hermione exited the bathroom again. Her hair was let down. Her curls had lost their friskiness, and fell into more wavy locks of honey brown. Lavender smiled.

            "You look great, sweety" Lavender cooed. Parvati nodded in agreement.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            Ron waited. He wasn't nervous. Actually he wasn't even excited. He just wanted to get the whole dance over with. He had a strong feeling that he'd be bored out of his mind. He looked up as Lavender came down the stairs and met with Seamus. He couldn't help undressing her with his eyes. She really had a nice body. He automatically licked his lips, and with a silent groan, turned and watched the stairway to the girl's dormitories for any sign of his date. Finally she came down, wearing a pastel blue gown. It wasn't particularly flashy, but she looked nice in it. He smiled at her, and held out his arm for her.

            He could tell she didn't trust him, and was awkward about it. He knew right then, it would be a very long night. Maybe if he had enough punch he would be able to worm his way out. They had silently marched down to the Great Hall, and Hermione saw Dumbledore approaching to a short man who appeared to have recently entered, as the main doors close loudly behind him. 

            "I didn't know if you were going to make it. I expected you sooner." Dumbledore said quietly, but she slowed down Ron so she could hear every word.

            "I know. I got, distracted on my way here. They come in flocks, you know. I don't think they wanted me to get here." The little man said. Hermione felt that he was about up to her chin, but his voice was deep.

            "How serious did it get?" Dumbledore said. Hermione realized that she and Ron were the only one's left in the Entrance Hall; everyone else had made into the Great Hall.

            "A few unforgivables. My broom is now entirely gone. It wasn't too bad. I think tonight'll be a bit worse. If that was what they had out to stop me from getting here, than I suspect it'll be a stronger offensive now that I'm here." The man finished. Hermione and Ron had entered the Great Hall and the man and Dumbledore enter right behind them. "You have it for me?" the man asked. Hermione heard the ruffling of parchment. "Thanks. I'll tell you when it's about to begin" the man finished. Dumbledore made it to the front where the Staff table was still situated.

            "MY DEAR STUDENTS, WELCOME TO THE HOLLOWEEN FESTIVITIES OF THE EVENING. I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE EVENING, AS WELL AT THE MAGICAL OCT-TET, ONE OF THE MOST FAMOUS WIZARDING BANDS IN THE WORLD. (cheers) HAVE A SPLENDID EVENING." 

            Hermione turned around once more to get a good look at the man. His long black hair covered his features, as he stared queerly at the wall. A sudden resemblance struck her.

            "Harry?" she said. Ron took a second look at the man. The man turned to them. His face let out a weak grin.

            "Ah-hah. Ron and Hermione. Good to see you, _both_ of you. I must have missed you on my way in" Harry said. It aggravated her. How could he just pass them off like that. No explanation, no apologies, not even a formal greeting. And how could he even imply that she was with Ron. She remembered that her arm was in his, and slowly and deliberately separated herself. Ron felt her tension.

            "I'll go get us all some drinks" Ron began to leave.

            "No, I got it covered" Harry said brightly. He opened his hand and held it out. He closed one eye like he was aiming. There was the sound of something moving quickly in the air, and surely a glass of punch flew into Harry's open hand. He handed it to Hermione, and then got one for Ron. Ron looked awestruck, and Hermione upset. Her face slowly relaxed, though against her will. She stepped forward.

            "We missed you…" she said as she placed her hand on his arm, then quickly withdrew it. "Ew, it's wet." Then she looked at her fingers. "Oh my god, Harry it's blood!" She said loudly. Harry sighed in understanding. 

            "I forgot to check and see if it opened up again. If it doesn't heal soon, I swear I'm going to get an infection" Harry said jokingly. He lifted the sleeve of his robe, revealing a short deep slash across his forearm, a couple inches below his elbow. "I'll be back in a minute. Don't you two wait up for me" Harry called, while sending Ron a wink. Harry took the fingers of which Hermione had picked up blood, and wiped them on his robes. He then turned and left the Great Hall, a frown playing on his lips. Ron and Hermione stood in silence for a few second, until Ron couldn't take it any longer.

            "Wanna dance?" Ron asked softly, knowing he was treading on thin ice. Hermione nodded decisively, and led him out to the dance floor. It was a moderate piece, and they started swaying towards the music.

            Hermione wished she had a watch. She couldn't tell time, but three songs later Harry return and went back to looking at the wall. In a flash there was an elevated chair, like the ones the lifeguards used at the public pool. Harry climbed up on top, and sat down, watching glumly over the proceedings. Hermione took her leave from Ron. Ron looked grateful to be able to leave the dance floor, until Ginny came up and grabbed him before he could sit. Hermione could tell that Ron was trying to be upset at Ginny for grabbing him, but she saw the happiness in his eyes. Ron wasn't a bad guy. No he wasn't. Hermione turned away and guided herself to the bottom of Harry's throne, as Malfoy quickly named it. Harry didn't seem to care.

            "Can I have a dance with my best friend?" Hermione said up to him. He glanced down at her, his face showed a small smile, but his eyes were frowning. They were frowning so distinctly that it made her freeze.

            "Maybe later. I have something to take care of first" Harry said warmly. He was trying to be nice. That was comforting. He sighed and stared back across the sea of dancing students. Hermione saw that Dumbledore was watching Harry intently, and he had his wand. The teachers never brought their wands to Balls. Flitwick had his wand in his pocket, too. So did McGonagal. She turned back to Harry in time to see him lace a piece of parchment into his pocket.

            "How long is it going to take?" Hermione pressed, her anxiety growing.

            "I honestly don't know, but I'll tell you when it's over. Go out there and get Ron. He looks dead bored sitting there by himself" Harry said. She turned to see Ron sitting alone with about six glasses from the punch. Sudden guilt overcame her, and she frowned.

            "I want my dance by the end of the night" she said firmly as she turned away and stomped over to Ron. Harry grinned at her retreating form, and took out the Marauder's Map. He sat back and watched it intently. Ignoring the entire rest of the dance. He didn't see Malfoy preparing himself to face Harry. He didn't see Lavender place a kiss on Ron's cheek. He didn't see Hermione sit in the corner and sip her drink, staring at him, as if he were about to disappear. Suddenly he stood up sharply, gathering the attention of most of the students, but the entire faculty was watching him. Harry put out his hand and the music stopped. Dumbledore started walking briskly towards Harry, but Harry didn't have the time. Malfoy saw this as his perfect chance to fight the bastard, but stopped and retreated when he saw Dumbledore approaching.

            "The statue of the one eyed witch, and the mirror on the fourth floor" Harry said. It was all Harry said before disappearing. There was a loud gasp as Dumbledore went over to the double doors which marked the division between the Entrance Hall and the Great Hall. All of the other attending professors joined him.

            "Minerva, Alastor, Vector, to the mirror on the fourth floor. Myself, Flitwick, Sprout, to the one eyed witch. Be cautious, they aren't here to play games" Dumbledore looked grave, but a fire was beginning to glow in his eyes.

            "What is going on Albus, where am I going?" Snape said. He looked thoroughly confused, as if he was the only professor not informed of what was happening. Hermione notice he didn't even have his wand. 

            "Stay here with the students, Severus. Keep them safe" Albus said before all of the teachers left. Hermione suddenly remembered that the one eyed witch was the entrance to the hidden passageway into Hogmeade. Someone was trying to break into Hogwarts. She covered her mouth to stop her shrill scream from escaping. She didn't need to panic the others, she was going to panic enough on her own. No one seemed to want to continue dancing. Snape turned around and he looked disappointed, like the one kid not picked for a pick-up  game of quidditch.

            "Does anyone have their wand on them?" Snape asked in a quiet and depressed sigh. A young Hufflepuff raised his hand. "May I borrow it, for a short while?" Snape asked. The boy seemed too scared to say no, and he handed it to Snape. Snape opened the doors to the Great Hall, and stood ready in the archway, waiting for anything. There was a loud bang that they felt through the stone floor. The whole castle seemed to groan. Another bang echoed through the halls, followed by loud yells to cut up by the echoes, that they made no sense. And then there was silence. The minutes ticked away. There was another crushing explosion, and then silence. Everyone was now worried. Nothing like this had ever happened before. Professor Vector came into Snape's view, and he was stumbling with an injured leg. It was bandaged well, but it was still stained red. Snape didn't even have to ask. Vector seemed in bad enough spirits to let it all out.

            "Bastards came with more than we all expected. They knew we would be there waiting for them, and they came out firing. We were about to be romped, when Potter shows up with four unconscious bastards in tow. He makes a few explosions, and the two left standing take the three he knocked out and bolt. He then goes down to help the others. Dumbledore it the only one left standing. Against five of his own. I was just behind potter, but I didn't see what he did. As soon as Dumbledore hit the ground, all five went down too. Potter packed them up and put them in a classroom without their wands. Locked them in. He started getting all the wounded to take them to Poppy, I'm the only one left standing. I think Albus was hit hard, because he put the boy in charge of the entire bloody school. I know he isn't that crazy. But it's headmaster's orders-" Vector said as Harry limped down with five stretchers in tow. He sent a weak smile toward the gaping students. 

            "Severus," Harry began, extracting a very apparent scowl on Snape's face, "I need three general healing draughts, two strong pain killers, and five sleeping potions, and the best restorative potion you have" Harry said, somehow showing respect to the oily wizard.

            "Poppy- Madame Pomfrey has all those things" Snape said.

            "No, someone on the inside," Harry's eyes trailed over to Malfoy's "cleared out her medicine cabinet ten minutes before the start of the Ball. We need them, especially the restorative potion. He needs it badly" Harry said while looking fondly at Flitwick. Blood was coming out of his ears. A very bad sign. Snape nodded and took off running. Harry turned to Professor Vector. "Do you mind taking them all to the Hospital wing? It seems you need to go there yourself" Harry said nicely. Vector nodded and looked out into the sea of kids.

            "Don't be too harsh on them" He said with a faint smile. Harry returned it. Vector used his wand and walked up the stairs in the direction of the Hospital Wing. Harry turned to the crowd of worried eyes. He went up into his chair and looked down at them. He knew they had lost the mood to dance and celebrate. He did too, the only difference is he never wanted to in the first place.

            "Alright, we were attacked, but we knew beforehand of it, and we were able to stop it. No one is in too serious of a condition, and I am confident that all of your professors will be up and about tomorrow" Harry said with the best smile he could manage. He was about to have the band begin again when one of the few voiced he despised spoke up.

            "I don't know about that. They all seemed messed up pretty badly for such a small attack, how many were there, a dozen of them, and you only captured how many?"

            "Ten of fifteen" Harry said confidently. Malfoy visually gulped. "Don't worry Draco, your father was saved by a couple of his friends, he got away nicely" Harry finished. Draco turned red with hate. Harry had just called his father a deatheater in front of the entire student body, third years and up.

            "Oh, and you say a weak attack. Do you know of the _divisius potentious spell, Malfoy?" Malfoy nodded through his growing hate. "Do you know what it does?" Malfoy nodded again. "Well, I'm just going to say that it was used tonight, which means that it was like he was really here, yet he still couldn't take the school. Amazing, isn't it. It looks like he isn't so powerful after all" Harry finished. He had lost most of the people by now, but Hermione was hanging onto his every word. _

            "I don't believe you, after all, you killed Cedric Diggory" There was a sharp return of attention to Harry, who sighed and sat back. Malfoy was expecting retaliation, and fingered his wand greedily, it was his chance to get his revenge.

            "No, I didn't kill him, but I was a key factor in his death. I was unsure whether your father would tell you the details of that night or not. I guess not. You see Draco, I was the cause of his death, because when we both refused the cup, Me, in my idiocy, suggested that we both take it. He agreed. We didn't know it was a portkey which would take us to the old home of Tom Riddle. I didn't know I was going to cause his death, but yes, I was involved, even if accidentally, and unintentionally. Even if I was trying to become a dark wizard, like you would want everyone to think, what would I have gained from killing him? He was a nice guy, with his values in the right place. (By now, Cho was crying) He was more brave than I'd ever seen a Gryffindor, and more intelligent than I'd ever seen a Ravenclaw, he did nothing to deserve his death, just like I did nothing to deserve my life. It was all a matter of chance. Chance I say, because I do not believe in fate, or destiny. They are both tools of the hopeful fool. You must know that of the six hundred true predictions of seers, only forty eight have come true. That tells you something, doesn't it. And although I was a tool in Cedric's Death, your father has been much more than a tool in the deaths of, he records them, and I think the last number was seventy four, as of last week, but hey, I'm not one to judge others. Dumbledore tells me that you were told if you insulted Cedric's memory you'd be expelled. So, I am asking you as a person on the sidelines, just watching what happens, shouldn't you be packing your things? I know you always wanted to go to Durmstrang" Harry finished, leaving the hall wide eyed, breathless, and shivering despite the warmth of the room. Draco looked like he was going to explode.

            "You have no proof" Draco sneered. He knew he was backed into a corner.

            "Other than the nearly seven hundred witnesses, Dumbledore hears everything I hear. You know a speak-o-graph. You have one with your father, you know how they work. Dumbledore is listening to everything you say, and I say, and is telling me instructions as to what I should do with you students. He wants you to go to your dormitory, and says you will talk later with him in his office" Harry said. Despite the growing grins on all the Gryffindor's faces, Harry remain unmoved by the antics of Malfoy. 

            "You can't make me do anything" Malfoy growled while drawing his and stepping back into a dueling position. The silence returned.

            "Albus, he's drawn his wand" Harry said. "No, I can definitely handle this" Everyone saw Harry touch his fingernail. He slid off his chair and fell ten feet to the floor. He stumbled a little before gaining his balance and pulling up his pant leg. There was a large area where the skin had been removed, where the blood slowly soaked through. "Forgot 'bout that" Harry muttered before turning his attention to a very excited Draco.

            "Are you sure you want to be embarrassed that badly?" Harry asked, amusement gone from his voice.

            "_Venomous" was the response he got. Draco shot venom at his eyes. Harry knew he couldn't dodge it. Well, he could, but then the people behind him wouldn't be able to. Harry put up his hand and the venom began to slow down. A cup appeared and the venom fell into it. Every drop. Harry picked up the cup and took a sip. _

            "Need's sugar." He said before placing the cup on one of the steps of his elevated chair. Draco was surprised. Harry didn't even have his wand out. Draco yelled another spell which created a cage around Harry. Harry walked through it. Draco sent fire at Harry. Harry made a muggle joke by pulling out a large marsh-mellow. Draco could judge from the laughter that he was being teased. Draco sent the most powerful legal pain curse he could think of. Harry had been waiting for this. He had expected it.

            Harry felt the burning start at his toes and slowly work it's way up his body. His knees gave out, but he refused to make any noise of pain. Everyone watched as his jaw quivered and his muscles became flexed. Harry forced himself to think that he was floating through the water, a cool refreshing flow of water, washing through his body. The oldest psychology trick there was. 

            Harry opened his eyes and stood up. He had beat a pain curse. Everyone was looking at him with newfound respect. Draco was shaking in fear. Harry wasn't supposed to be able to do that. Harry walked over to Draco and calmly plucked his wand from the shaking hand. 

            "This is over now. Got to your dormitory, and await Professor Dumbledore" Harry said in a low voice, but Draco wasn't ready yet. As Harry turned around Draco drew a knife. Harry heard it exit the sheath. He knew that it wasn't going to be a clean blade. Draco charged a retreating Harry, and Harry turned around a second too slow and the knife nicked the side of his neck. Harry fell as Draco's body met his. Draco stumbled as Harry slowly got to his feet. The anger in Harry's eyes was hidden, as Harry's mind turned the knife on Draco.

            Draco panicked as his arm turned the knife on himself. It went against his own skin and was pressed against it roughly.   
            "How do I stop it Draco?" Harry asked, his voice filled with malice.

            "Like I would tell you" Draco spat. In a flash, Draco was chained to the floor. Both his legs and the one arm which didn't hold the knife. Draco's arm holding the knife drove the knife deep into his chest, and then pulled it out.

            "Now, you fucking idiot. You can tell me how to save us both, or we both suffer the consequences, although, judging from the injuries, you will have to suffer more." Harry said. Blood was pouring from the hole in Draco's chest, and saturated his velvet dress robes. Draco seemed to be fighting with his own mind.

            "It's Basilisk Venom. I don't…" Draco coughed, "…I don't know how to stop it." His last words came with tears. Harry was cursing under his breath. He used all the magic he could to summon what he needed. In seconds, Fawkes came in through the gateway near the ceiling from which owls usually entered. She wasn't flapping her wings, so it appeared like she was flying by her own power. She landed on Harry's shoulder, and he rubbed her head gently. She let out a note before crying large jelly-looking tears. Harry used his finger and took it, and ripped open Draco's robes. He placed the tear there, and then another. He put down a total of six tears in Draco's wound. He was beginning to feel light headed, and finally started placing them on his neck. He felt it instantaneously. The wound closed, and his energy was renewed. Draco wiped the blood away revealing a dark scar, but no wound. He wiped his own tears away and stood in front of Harry.

            "You, you all saw it, he tried to kill me!" Draco screamed to the crowd they didn't seem at all affected by his remarks. Not even the Slytherins. Draco was hysterical, yelling it over and over again. Finally Harry put it to an end.

            "In almost killing you, I saved us both, and saving two lives is more noble than killing one, even for you" Harry said. "Now, you are leaving here, or I am escorting you away. It is your choice." Draco was defeated, in every aspect of the word. He hid his face, and his tears as he nearly ran from the Great Hall. Harry watched as Pansy ran out after him. Harry pet Fawkes lightly on the head, before giving her a kiss, and sending her off into the rafters. The crowd seemed totally surprised when the music started again. Few wanted to dance,  and they dispersed to their seats. Harry, with some difficulty climbed back up to his watching chair, and sat down. He was once again full of life, a side effect of the tears from a phoenix. People kept looking warily at him. Few saw him tap his fingernail. He had a long conversation in silence with Dumbledore. He was pleased that after a while, people began to return to the dance floor. He wasn't going to enforce the six inch rule, so he amusedly described the scene to the headmaster as the dancing students danced very close to each other. Seamus was dancing with Lavender, who seemed to be watching Ron and Parvati dance. Hermione Harry couldn't spot, until he looked down to check on his leg. She was standing right below him. Concern was written in her eyes, and indifference into his.

            "Can I have a dance now?" Hermione asked. He had to admit, she looked nice in the dress she was wearing. He lifted his pant leg once again, showing off the large, but not life threatening wound. It was the only explanation he needed. She wasn't about to give up.

            "When are you leaving?" she asked.

            "When I get what I came for. It could take a few days, knowing Dumbledore" Harry responded.

            "What was that spell that the attacker's used?" she asked.

            "It doesn't matter if I tell you or not, you'll just look it up anyway" Harry said. She silently agreed.

            "What are you getting before you leave?" she asked.

            "A big walking stick, anything else?" He asked. He used his mind to separate Ginny from a Hufflepuff boy, before Ron found out. She didn't want to push him, she wanted him to see what he was giving up.

            "I missed you" She said quietly. She was slightly uneasy, but she wouldn't look away, it would only be making her feelings obvious.

            "I haven't had much time to miss anything" He said heavily. She knew he wasn't going to give her any straight answers.

            "So, how did you manage to disappear?" She asked softly. She assumed that he thought this would take a while, because he lowered his chair, and placed one next to his for her. She gladly took it.

            "Dumbledore decided to tell me I could apperate through the wards" Harry said like it was nothing big. He even seemed ashamed of it. She kept her silence as the music went on. She just watched the crowd with him, and he was content just to watch. It struck her, that he saw himself as an outsider, and this was where he felt he belonged. Watching over everyone else, whether it hurt them or not.

This is my longest chapter in recent history. I hope you enjoy it. A bit of action, a bit of Draco bashing, a very confused and obedient Snape. I think I did alright. Oh, my two tests yesterday. I got an 82 on my AP Physics C midterm, very happy about that, but I don't know what I got on Psychology, guess I'll have to wait and see. Now, to my precious reviewers.

**CBsha- I'm glad you came through and liked it, even more that you reviewed. Oh, Harry's growing, but in the wrong direction. I hope to see a review from you again, and wish you the best of your reading, --chelle.**

**Angel- I'm flattered that you think so highly of my work, and hope that you don't stay up too late while reading. Ron and Hermione never really got a chance to tell him. It was never comfortable enough. They have grown apart, and things have become awkward between them. Harry will find out though. He will find out when he really needs to. He just wants them to be safe and happy.**

**Kate- I agree, we all want Harry to be taller, and he does have enough to worry about, but his height is more important than just a physiological reversal. There is a serious underlying problem here, and I can't tell you until later on.**

**Zoot- From now on I no longer am typing out the rest of Vampiric Vampire. It's too long and I mess it up too often. No, the next parts starting here will no be as long. I was thinking of reposting everything into longer and fewer chapters. Combining  them for practicality, but I won't do it yet. When or if I get near fifty or sixty chapters, I feel I won't have any choice in the matter, but for now it remains the same. You see after this chapter that Harry keeps seeing Hermione and Ron as together. It will contribute to his state of mind. I get giddy just thinking about what's coming up, but I can't say anything, oh how I want to. Don't worry about any evidence of brownies, I make special brownies all the time. All you do is make brownies, then take chocolate icing and spell out special. Then you give them to your parents and see how they react. It's quite funny indeed. Just hide around the corner and watch them poke and sniff them suspiciously. Anyway, I better move on to my next reviewer before I pass out from drinking a carton and a half of orange juice. Don't ask. Thanks for sticking around.**

**Jarvey- Insanity is fun, I have had the pleasure of experiencing it every once in a while. If you come across any advice, even if it is tiny, just let me know. I'd love to hear it.**

**Rogue17520- This is not leaning towards a Ron/Hermione ship. I feel violated having you even suggest that. Harry's Firebolt was originally splintered and bent when he flew at records speed to where the deatheaters sent a neighbor hood on fire, and made a girl watch. Chapter 21, I believe. I hope I do change your mind, because Ron and Hermione is one of those few things I just can't stand.**

**NAPPA- Thanks for the luck on my exams, most are done. I got one left tomorrow, or Thursday. This story is continuing, but now it will have a different set up. Harry will be off, hopping around the globe, getting himself into all kinds of trouble. It'll be fun to write, and I hope it'll be as much fun to read. I'm glad you like my mistakes, I can't say I enjoy them as much as you do, but I guess I can accept it. I hope to see your name in my reviews soon. Have a nice day, evening, or night, depending on when you read this.**

**Sugar Quill- I'm delighted to be on the receiving end of your longest review. I hope you keep enjoying my story, an here is the next part. Have fun.**

**Thank you everyone, you all mean a lot to me. I hope I got everyone, and you received the answers or responses you wanted. Have fun reading, and I hope to hear from you all soon.**


	28. Trees

            "When are you coming back?" Hermione asked. She was still reeling from waking so early in the morning after the Holloween Ball. She was exhausted, but that wouldn't stop her from seeing Harry off.

            "When one of three things happen" he responded while he tossed a canvas tarp into a framed backpack. She shivered in the cold breeze. It smelled like winter. She couldn't think of more than one, so she advertised her typical confused face. Harry noticed and continued, "One, I find some wood. Two, I get injured and need treatment, or three, I run out of supplies." She sighed and watched as the steam blew a could in front of her face.

            "Why do you need wood, again?" She asked. She thought she was the only person good at being vague and difficult. This was a rude awakening. 

            "For a project" he said.

            "And what is the end product of this product going to be?" she asked. She anticipated his rebuke, "provided you find this wood you're seeking." She saw his eye's flash. She'd caught him off guard. That made the score one to…a lot. Harry had a lot. 

            "A stick" he said grinning. She could tell he was proud to have found such an easy way out. He, with some difficulty raised the metal frame of the back pack onto his back. He then put on a belt with dozens of small vials in little pockets. She guessed from the odd colors of the caps that they were potions. 

            "Just don't get yourself killed. I can handle a missing arm or legs, but just don't be too stupid. I know it may be below you to use your brain, but, you know, for me." She said. She was trying to strike a nerve in him, to get any kind of emotional response from him. He let out a sigh like a heavy weight had been lifted from him.

            "Really?" He asked. She nodded despite the lack of clarity on the subject. She watched as one of his arms disappeared. "Good, because hiding this was beginning to hurt. I'm glad I can finally show myself to you." He watched her face twist in horror, and she stepped back. His arm reappeared and he shook his head in disgust. "I thought so." 

            She cursed herself inwardly as he shifted the weight of the pack. He leaned in and pecked her on the cheek.  She was frozen where she was.

            "I'll be fine, and I am fine. I'll see you soon enough. Try to relax a little. And, next time you come outside in the cold, try to wear something a tad thicker, if you understand me" he said with and obvious glance towards her chest. She looked down and noticed that she had twin peaks protruding through her thin night shirt and robe. She gasped in horror of showing them off and covered herself by crossing her arms. She looked up to see Harry marching towards a statue in the Gardens. He said something to it, and it stepped aside revealing a door. Above the door in small letters it was written '_Infinite__Forest' She took note of the name. She couldn't figure out why he would need wood. It wasn't necessary for many things. And couldn't he get it anywhere? _

She sighed and went back up to her dormitory. She took out a thick album of newspaper clippings. She scanned some of the more recent headlines. "_Two Found Dead In Ministry Closet With Four Bound and Gagged, Minister Blames Boy-Who-Lived." "Potter Seen In Hogsmeade Minutes Before Attack, Suspicion Grows." "Minister of Magic Wants Potter Brought in for Questioning, Assembly Agrees." "Search For Potter Continues, Dark Suspicions Slowly Becoming a Reality, However Witness to Attack in Diagon Alley Claims Potter a Hero." _Hermione went over them again and again. What was Harry getting himself into. Wanted dead by Vol- You- Know-Who, and now being pursued by the ministry of magic. He was being foolish. He should just turn himself in and tell them the truth, that he didn't do it. _But what if he did? A voice I her head whispered. She shivered. Harry could never do that. He could never kill anyone. He wasn't evil. He wasn't. She pushed her thoughts onto something else as an owl flew in the window carrying the day's Daily Prophet. Hermione took five knuts from her nightstand and placed it in the owl's pouch. The owl dropped the paper and left. _

Hermione opened it up and dropped it in shock.

**_"Warrant for Potter's Arrest Approved! Ministry Cites Strong Evidence in Six Killings, and Suspicion in Five Other Murders. Dark Magic Suspected. Wand to be Confiscated. __By Sheyite Hoppins.__ Today, in a stunning convening of the Magical Assembly, Minister Fudge convince the Assemblymen that Potter was a threat to our society, and action should be taken. Due to Potter's self-expulsion from __Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and his blatant use of magic illegally, it was not difficult to achieve this ruling. The charges also include Potter as the top suspect in eleven strange murders in the last month. As suspicions still lingers from the mysterious death of Cedric Diggory at the close of the Triward Tournament held at Hogwarts last year, Fudge felt that this measure of action should have been taken immediately._**

_When Potter is found and questioned, the consequences are limited. If, miraculously he is found to be innocent of all the murders, he will most likely be let free, but monitored closely by aurors. If he is found guilty, he will immediately stand trial in front of a jury of the most respected wizards and witches of the day. However, due to his illegal magical activity outside of school, his wand will be confiscated by the ministry. _

_The Daily Prophet was old by an anonymous person that Potter was seen recently with Ludwig Schmidt, who is known for his skill in teaching wandless magic. If Potter's wand was taken away, would it really keep us safe. Many are now feeling that Potter is beginning to follow the dark path. All we can do is hope he is caught soon, before his conversion is beyond repair. _

Hermione gaped at the newspaper, and put it down. They were going after Harry. He was in deep trouble. She knew only one person she could go to. She dressed quickly and started running, journeying desperately to the only Gargoyle she could think of.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            Harry sat staring at his campfire. How long had he been out here? A week? A Month? A year? He should have known that finding compatible wood was going to be hard. He had spent days just feeling the forest. Trying to find that sense of power which he should feel somewhere in here. He was getting cold, but he didn't put anymore clothes on. No, the cold felt good. Knowing it was only his body heat keeping him alive made him feel alive. It was a slow and beautiful rush. Knowing that it was only himself keeping warm. He started at the fire and let his mind wander. He was feeling the forest with his mind, trying to sense it's strong subtleties. Trying to find it's hidden power. The only power made for him. Why did it have to be so hard. As he had his mind fly through the forest, he watched as the trees changed. Here, the trees were always in spring, even if the weather wasn't. The green trees gave way to darkness, and Harry felt it. It was so sudden that he almost lost his concentration. He let his mind see where it was. He saw the smooth grey bark, sparkling silver from water in the almost pitch black shade. It was like he had entered a new realm. He had his mind look around and grabbed a leave. He went back to where it was a little lighter and examined it. It was red. A deep and dark maroon red. It was purplish red. He looked at the tree as his eyes began to adjust. It was a large tree, with red leaves. Not too many of those. His mind disappeared from the area and returned to his body. 

He opened his eyes to look at the fire once again. He almost knew where to go, but he knew where he was going. He levitated a can out of the fire and put it on the ground in front of him. He opened it and watched with satisfaction as steam poured out. He grabbed a spoon and dipped it in the can, extracting brown baked beans. He touched it with the tip of his tongue and recoiled. It was too hot. He held his spoon for a short while longer before biting down on it. It was good. He always liked baked beans. Probably because for the first ten years of his life it was the sweetest thing he had ever eaten. He dipped the spoon in again and held it up in the cool air to chill. He then took another bite and stood up. He couldn't hold down his excitement much longer. He knew what trees he had to go and see. Finally. Then all he had to do was carve it. And he was convinced that carving would be the easy part. 

He sat back down and finished off his beans. Sitting and searching was not very active, and as the sun almost came to noon, he decided he would start his journey down the only path this forest had, he packed the rest of his food, and threw in his tent. He lifted it more easily than he had before, and started off after using his wand to quench the flames. So he had to get to a huge tree with silver bark and red leaves. Not so hard. He clipped on the belt of his pack. He realized a few days ago that it made traveling easier. He started walking down the shady path. He was afraid he was going to forget what the sun looked like. He also wondered if he found them in the closet at the ministry. They really wanted him caught, the six of them. They all seemed in bad spirits when he locked them in. Three of them looked like they  were going to murder each other. He was glad he had little to do with what was going to happen in that closet. Six angry men in a tight space. Not a good idea.

Harry enjoyed the trees as he marched. He would touch one every once in a while to try to sense how far he was from the tree he had seen. It seemed to be approaching very slowly. He didn't need to sleep. He just kept eating his beans, and apples, and pancakes, and marshmellows. He'd stop, start a fire, make a meal, and eat as he marched. At night when it got seriously cold he would sometimes put on a cloak or another shirt, depending on his mood. He noticed as he got further into the forest, the number of animals increased. Squirrels, deer, foxes, even an elk. He also learned that chipmunks were not as kind and cuddly as they seemed. He had heard a sound one night as he took a break at a tiny field. He was happy to see the stars for once. He lay down his pack against a tree and stood in the center of the tiny clearing, just looking up. He stood that way for a few minutes, until he heard someone going through his pack. He lit his wand and approached slowly. There was something in his pack. He kicked it softly and heard a number of squeaks. A small army of chipmunks were in his pack, and they left, pulling bread, fruit and marshmellows behind them. He dumped out his pack to find any food they could get into, gone. They were like bears. Mini-bears. He entertained the thought in his head. He should still have enough to make the journey.

He lifted his pack, and cursed at the mini-bears before walking off on the path, continuing on his trek. It was five days since he saw the tree that he finally came across a grove of them. He lay down his pack and wiped the sweat from his brow. It didn't matter that it was fifty degrees, he was hot. He put his hand up against the nearest of the trees. He learned every inch of the tree. It had the power, but it wasn't a perfect match. He went to the next, and then the next. He came to the largest one. He had been through nine of the trees, and only had four more. As he touched the tree, he felt a surge of magic, and the tree began to move. Her couldn't see it, but he could feel it. The tree was measuring him, as he was measuring it. He knew this was the tree, it had to be. He looked at it's branches. He needed to find on that didn't hurt the tree to remove. He searched it with his mind and his eyes. His mind found it first. Near the top of the thirty meter tall sphere was a broken limb. It was long enough and thick enough, but it had been snapped by something. It would be well to remove it.

Without his broom, Harry had no way to get up but climb, so climb he did. It was easy to climb. Eight feet above the ground the trunk split into two trunks, from which all the branches exited. He found that being smaller gave him an advantage. It was easier to move around and lift his small body mass. It only took him ten minutes to get to the top, and he could see where it was broken. It wasn't a real break, more like a small cut, but it was enough to kill the limb. He slid out to where the damage was, and began to try to break it off. He bent it back and forth many times. Under the bark it was still green and fresh. It wouldn't snap. He pulled it back and forth so violently that he lost his balance and fell off the limb he had been sitting on. He held on tight to the piece he was trying to get off, and it hung, without snapping, as he held on, breathing heavily. He let himself down onto a lower branch and slid his way back to the trunk. He leaned back against it until he could recover. He dared to look down to see what would have happened had he not grabbed onto the very branch he was trying to break. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Looking down at his pack he remembered what the mini-bears had done last time he left it unattended. He flicked his wand and it rose slowly to him. He set it on the limb he was sitting on, and pulled out an apple. It was crisp and sweet, and he ate it hungrily. He only had a few more left, but he was really hungry. He went against his better judgment and ate another one. He really didn't care for self control. He didn't care for any control not his own. 

            Glancing around, he went back up to the branch he had been on before hand, but this time used some rope to secure himself to it. He did not want to fall here. He went back to work, bending it at the joint, then back, then twisting until it was bending so much, he bent it all the way back. He did this for over an hour. He was tired and aching but finally, it fell free, and fall I did, hitting many limbs until it hit the ground with a dull thud. That was expected, the ground was soft. Harry untied himself, and started his descent. He grabbed his pack and let it down with the rope, before going down the same route he came up. Once on the ground, he examined his prize. It was about five feet long, and very straight and smooth. He examined the place where he tore it from. It looked like a crown of green, fresh spikes. And Harry had to admit, it looked very cool. Deciding he was going to stay there for the night, he built himself a fire, and to keep the crown there he roasted it a few feet over the flames. He left it a good distance above the highest flame, and he took out his sleeping bag, he lay it out, and got in. Under the canopy of leaves, he went to sleep.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            _"You have failed me, you have failed me time and time again. Even with my own power you have failed me. We have lost ten, ten that know too much. And they are going to be questioned and they are going to talk. So, you, all five of you are going to get them. And if you cannot save them, you are going to kill them. If you are not successful you will suffer far more than ever before. If you cannot succeed you had better be dead. Because if I find you alive, you will sorely regret it. Crucio!" The five men writhed in pain and screams._

_            "Lucius, this is your final chance. I am getting tired of giving you more and more opportunity. Your disappointments aside, you are beginning to bore me. Do not fall short this time. Go, before I choose to kill you."_

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ 

            Harry woke up and found himself uncomfortably close to the fire. He sat up and gave his eyes some time to adjust to the darkness. He shivered. The night was cold and he had rolled out of his sleeping bag. He wiped the blood from his brow and winced as his hand came across his scar. It was sore as always. He looked around and noticed the color of the sky. The sun would be rising soon. He guessed he was no more than a few hours away from the portal back to Hogwarts. His journey would have been faster if he didn't need to carry the damn log. It was a shame that he didn't have the skill at wandless magic to sustain it hovering for more than a few score of minutes. He wouldn't do anything to change the log for fear of contaminating it with unnatural magic. Harry pulled out and munched on his very last apple. He thought of it as an early breakfast. Something to get him on his way. Wishing he knew of a stream nearby, he packed his things and placed his pack onto his back. He winced at the blister on his heal as the pressure made it sting. He knew he should have worn thicker socks. Wiping away the tears from the pain of his scar, he began to trek in the fresh, cold air of the November morning. Dumbledore had told him that Fudge wanted his wand. Harry was not ready to give it up. 

            It was shortly after noon when Harry reached the mirror looking portal he had come through. He simply walked through it and took a look around. The Care of Magical Creatures Professor had his first year students learning about owls. Harry thought it was unnecessary to teach them about harmless and intelligently self sufficient creatures. They needed to know about the dark and evil ones. Who would be insane enough to attack with owls? Owls…

            Harry let the smirk on his face linger as he approached the large steps leading up to the main entrance. He quickly notice a man wearing all black, reshaping a rock with his wand into different shapes. There was a man at the door, waiting for someone. Harry flipped his hood up and tried to suck in the pain from the blister and walk normally by as if there was nothing wrong. He was positive that his build and frame, when hidden under a cloak would make him appear much smaller. He was right. The man looked him over for a few seconds before going back to his rock. Harry smiled as he started up the stairways to Dumbledore's office. 

            Drawing a small, plastic film container from his pocket, Harry extracted a jellybean and put it in the gargoyle's mouth. It was so much easier than guessing candies. Sure enough, the gargoyle stepped aside letting Harry enter. He examined the paintings as he ascended to the office, and found it empty. Pulling out the Marauder's Map, Harry quickly found Dumbledore speaking with the man on the front steps. Harry curiously ran his finger over their dots, and was surprised to see a text bubble appear next to the man labeled _J. D. Saltpipe. In the bubble it said __'Nope, no luck as of yet. I don't expect him to come thorough the main entrance anyway. There must be forty different ways into Hogwarts. Potter is a sly one, I don't suppose I'll see him unless he wants me to.'  Harry sighed at that remark. So he __was looking for him. Probably to take his wand away. Harry wasn't ready to give it up. He continued reading as a text bubble appeared next to Dumbledore's dot._

            '_I wish you luck, anyway, Jerald. However I must return to my office. I fear I have a visitor.' Harry hesitated. It was hard to put something by the man, but it had been done before. The men exchanged good-byes and Harry watched as Dumbledore went into a secret passage running down into the kitchen. He crossed the kitchen and went into another secret passage taking him right into his office. Harry looked up to see the bookcase slid sideways revealing a passage from which the old wizard emerged he was smiling softly._

            "Did you succeed?" By this point Harry and Dumbledore had abandoned the formal titles and greetings. Everything was business to the point where it was unnecessary and repetitive to do such mundane things. 

            Harry lifted up the limb with the porcupine looking tip on the top. Dumbledore accepted it from Harry and examined the wood closely for any flaws or inconsistencies. It appeared to be fresh from the color and texture. The baked tip to keep the top pointed was a nice touch. 

            "Now what?" Harry asked. He had gotten the damn log. He wanted to get the bloody project over and done with. Perhaps he could then find a nice place to live. His plan was working, with wandering around the world and being sure the press saw him. No one knew where he was so he was home free, as soon as he found a home.

            He watched as Dumbledore went into one of his upper cabinets and removed what looked like a clothe rolled up and tied with a ribbon. He untied the ribbon and unrolled the cloth. In pockets in the cloth were a variety of knives and other tools. All of which looked sharp and in pristine condition. 

            "Now, young man, you will need to carve all the bark off of your branch. It needs to be pure wood, as to keep it as consistent as possible. Further more, you must carve the wood until its design matches your inner vision of it. Once this process is done, you will place your power within it." Harry took a closer look at the tools. He took out one of the knives and placed it against his finger. Dumbledore couldn't see what he was doing, but when he did see, he was mildly disgusted. Harry sliced a thin patch of skin off of his finger, without going deep enough to make it bleed.

            "These are good tools" Harry said as he kept examining them, "but how do I know when I'm done?"

            "It's like love Harry, you just know" Dumbledore said in his normal wise-ass voice. As soon as he saw the doubt on Harry's face, he knew he had used the wrong analogy on his pupil. "You will know when you are done. Trust yourself" Harry sighed and with a nod, rolled up the blade kit.

            "Thanks, pops. Am I in the same room I was in last time I visited?" Harry asked dully. He really didn't like staying in the dungeons. 

            "Nonsense. There is that abandoned classroom near the Ravenclaw wing. I gather you'd appreciate it more. The house elves have already equipped it properly. It should be a bit warmer, despite missing a fireplace." Dumbledore said. He watched Harry read the map he had until he located the room. Harry smiled in understanding and without another word he left. Dumbledore remembered the feel of the limb Harry had received. It was strong, and durable. It was not often chosen for the project Harry had embarked on. But then again, nothing Harry did ever was "normal."

Sorry this took so long. Visiting colleges, doing term papers, not failing AP physics, we all, or at least most of us know what's it's like. I have been up 36 hours straight because of the damn snow, and I am falling asleep at the keyboard, so please pardon any mistakes, I am sure there are plenty. Leave a review, I promise I'll respond to them in the next chapter. Too tired to respond this time. Good-night everyone.


	29. Liberated

            He ran his fingers over it like a most prized possession. The smooth, soft feel of the wood was incredible. He took the emery cloth and ran it up and down the shaft of wood, carefully making sure it was perfect. He didn't know why it had to be perfect, but it did. And he was so close to perfection, but there was something missing. Something small and unimportant, but he would never be done until he found it. It was as if the wood was too plain, and didn't have enough secrecy and mystery about it. It needed something hidden in it. It needed…

            A large reddish bird same in the window, and Harry recognized it immediately. He decided to let his thoughts be a while. God knows he wasn't getting anywhere, locked up in the large room, with only a cot and a roll of tools. Then again that was his choice.

            "Hello Fawkes. And how are you this miserable day? I suppose Dumbledore wants to know about my progress?" Both questions were met only with a short note. It was beautiful anyway. "So, you have any ideas?" Harry said. It was more rhetorical than anything else. He was just flat out of ideas. Maybe the bird knew him better than he did, and would miraculously have the solution. Harry watched as the bird landed on the table and bit his wand. Harry looked at it blankly. He supposed he should be protective of the wand, but he would be getting rid of it soon enough, so there was no reason to maintain it perfectly. Voldemort would probably steal it from the Ministry minutes after he gave it to them, they were all incompetent bastards, pardon his English.

            A loud click as Fawkes' beak bit into the wood of his wand snapped Harry back to focus, and he pulled his wand away from the bird. There were no visible marks, but that didn't mean anything. 

            "If I wanted you to break it I would have asked you to" Harry said, and he got as much of a glare a bird with few facial muscles could muster. Harry watched as the bird took flight and landed at the top of his incomplete project, which was defined as a nicely carved, useless piece of beechwood. The bird sat near the porcupine-like tip, and looked kind of like it was laying and egg. Harry watched it rub itself against the pointy splinters. Maybe it had an itch, but Harry didn't get that impression. No, the bird was trying to do something, but what? Lay an egg?

            Finally the bird hopped off the spikes and flew out the window. Harry's eyes grew wide as he saw what remained near the spikes; one reddish feather and six rubies. Harry mentally slapped himself as he removed the feather from the table and examined it. It was intact, and it was beautiful. Harry really wanted to thank the bird, but his obsession with finishing overcame him, and he went right to work. In only a few short minutes, hidden secretly inside his staff, was a phoenix feather, and the rubies outlined the place where he was to grip the staff; three above, and three below. He marveled at the beauty he had created, he had constructed with his own hands. He sat down and took a breath before standing right back up. He had to see Dumbledore. Grabbing the finished product and putting on his shoes magically, he sprinted through the halls, passed a few students, one of which he accidentally hit with his staff. He apologized as he kept running, he didn't even see who it was, not that he cared. He finally made it to the Gargoyle, and it opened as Harry threw a hand full of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans at it from a good twenty feet away. Some must have made it in the mouth. Harry dashed up the stairs and threw the door open to find Dumbledore and the same auror who had been waiting for Harry the very day he returned from the infinite forest. Harry hesitating, wondering what the guy was to do.

            "I'm afraid it's too late Jerald, you already signed away your powers on school grounds. You may not apprehend him." Dumbledore said in his usual chipper tone. To Harry's surprise, the man laughed.

            "Just my luck, it is. As soon as I can't git him no more, he shows up in me arms. Hah, I need a drink. I'm gunna be belted for this one." The man shook his head and muttered to himself as he patted Harry on the back and exited the office. Harry turned to Dumbledore and renewed his joy of creation. He lifted his staff up and handed it to Dumbledore. The man didn't need to ask if it was done, the answer was clear in the face of the young man in front of him. Dumbledore stood and waved it around a little. 

            "Quite well balanced, neatly carved, decorated modestly and tastefully. Now, the staff itself has no magical core like a wand, so we will have to charge it. Can you be on the quidditch pitch at dusk, Mr. Potter?" Harry nodded violently. "Very well, we will do it then. I have some monetary obstacles to go over, I must ask you to leave me." Harry smiled and accepting back his artwork, he stepped out of the office and the door closed. He suddenly wanted to ask if the fact that he did actually kind of have a magical core in his staff change anything, but Dumbledore had asked to be alone, he would grant him that. Feeling suddenly alone, and wanting someone to share his triumph with, he immediately thought of Hermione. And Ron. It was Thursday, so at this time in the afternoon…Defense Against the Dark Arts, with Moody. 

            Harry held up his staff and realized that if the ministry wanted to take away his wand, it would not be good to walk around so obviously with a staff. It might send the wrong impression. He was going to shrink it, but, having a magical core in its own being the same of that of his wand, he didn't think using his wand would be wise. On more hope than chance, he decided to try using the magic of the staff itself. People who had staffs walked with them shrunken, and they didn't carry around wands so they had to be able to shrink it by itself. Harry focused. As much as he could he focused. Using the same magic he used to search the forest, to search the trees, to find the wood, to shape the wood, he searched every molecule of his staff, and compressed it. He looked at it, and it was small, as small as his wand, just at the same length, it was a tad skinnier. He let out a yell of surprise and accomplishment, and ran off to find Hermione. It wasn't long before he found the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He silenced the door with his wand, and then silenced himself. He opened the door and slid in. The first thing Harry noticed was that Moody was sleeping, face down, on his desk. Harry then saw the man, or person teaching. The person was clothed loosely in black so no traits could be determined. Their face was concealed by a black hood, so their face couldn't be seen, and the voice used carried no tonal variances. There was no way to identify who this person was. He was talking about dueling and fighting, so he was most-likely an auror. He took notice of Harry, but quickly continued on his commentary of a mission he had of finding and capturing a renegade auror who broke ties with the ministry while going on a killing spree. 

            Harry sat down in an empty desk in the back and paid close attention. He took notice of Dean and Seamus whispering to each other. Harry listened carefully to their chatter. 

            "I don't like this guy. He's not nearly as cool as the Banshee slayer person we had last week" Dean said.

            "' don't know. He's alright. He's not as cool as that person, but this is an anonymous program, so anything you really want to know they can't tell you, because it'll give them away. You can tell from this guy's story that he's boring himself more than anyone else." Seamus responded. 

            "True, very true. I can't wait until we get a dragon hunter or something, or a spy. That would be a cool person to have talk in front of us" Dean said with a wicked smile.

            "Or a professional Quidditch player" Seamus said. Dean nodded as he went back to pretending to watch the lecture. Harry was unsurprised to see Hermione taking notes. Her hair was a mess, but he liked the new coloring. It had darkened everywhere but the tips. He thought it looked rather nice if she brushed it. Ron was looking at the man in a weird way. Maybe Ron knew him. Harry decided to listen to the poor guy teaching, it couldn't hurt.

            "…and that's what happens when you curse yourself to get the advantage. The pause gives your opponent a enough time to win. One last thing I feel you should know about dueling is that although I do not admonish dueling in an educational environment, such as Hogwarts, I do not feel it properly prepares you for fighting in the real world. You are rarely if ever one against one in a fight, and even then there are no rules to follow. All is fair game. Even death, which is why the dueling act of 1743 was passed. You are not allowed to hold an unsupervised duel, which means you need a Ministry approved judge. Failure to follow these basic guidelines results in a three year term of imprisonment. Anyway, it was an honor to participate in this outside the classroom teaching program. Are there any questions before I go?" Harry smiled as Hermione raised her hand.

            "First of all, thank you sir, or madam, for coming to speak with us…" Harry saw Moody turn in his sleep before lifting his head up and looking around "… and my question to you is, does the gory lifestyle you are part of and the non-regular work hours leave any permanent mental and emotional scarring?" The rest of the class looked dumbfounded. Obviously no one looked at that perspective of this guy's kind of work. His pause and posture change showed his awkwardness. If the person couldn't come out and immediately know the answer, than it was definitely a man, no surprise there. 

            "Yes, well, um, I've never really thought about that. Sure, it's given me some problems emotionally, and my relationships, friendships and others have suffered. The blood and disgusting acts I've seen have probably changed me to a certain extent. As if the "scarring" as you put it, is permanent, I don't really know. I've never lived without it. One thing few people see and remember is that I work in the background. I am not a public figure. When I succeed at my mission there is no recognition and parade or any of that. I do my job, not because I like it, because I don't. I do it because I am good at it, and although there is little or no appreciation, my motivation is 'what would happen if no one did this?' Is a little emotional damage worth getting for the benefits to everyone else. In my case the answer was yes." There was a quiet murmuring amongst the students for a while. "Any other questions?" No hands went up. "Well, I guess I'll be on my way then. Thank you for having me." There was a quiet applause from the students as the man exchanged a few words with Moody, before leaving the classroom. 

            "Yeah. Yeh got 'bout five minutes lef'. Yeh can go if ye like, or stay. Whatever." Moody said as he sat back down in his chair and propped his chin in his hand. His magical eye found Harry and he waved Harry over. Harry was finally seen by the students and he noticed that a good many of them, especially the Slytherins got up when they spotted him, and they left. He scared them. He didn't like the feeling.

            "Papers say yeh killed a mighty large number of people" Moody said with his insane grin.

            "When I shut the door of the closet all six were alive!" Harry retorted. His shortness of sleep made him the slightest bit cranky.

            "I know, I know, don' git yer panties in a bunch. We need yeh nice an calm for the war" Moody growled.

            "War…" Harry sighed, "…what are we even fighting over."

            "We don't even know if we're on the righ' side. War doesn't determine who is righ' y'know" Moody said. Hermione felt he was making a pretty bad attempt at being philosophical.

            "Right, it determines who is-" Harry began.

            "Wrong in the eyes of history" Hermione put in. She hadn't left and was trying to find her way into the discussion. Harry gave her a strange look. She guessed he didn't like being interrupted.

            "No, it determines who is left" Harry said. After a few seconds of silence Moody laughed. 

            "Oh, that works, it does. War doesn't determine who is right, it determines who is left. Oh, I like that." Hermione saw Harry crack a small smile. He took something out of his pocket. It looked like a wand, but it was too skinny. She saw it grow to full length and gasped as Harry handed it to Moody. She was stunned into silence.

            "Good balance. ' Like th' spikes, may come in handy. I like th' texture, strong wood. It been charged yet?" Moody asked.

            "Not yet. Tonight." Moody examined it closely. 

"Wonderful craft'minship" Moody said.

"Thanks" Harry responded as he took it back. He turned to Hermione and to her shock he handed it to her. "Go on, give it a flick" Harry said in a near perfect imitation of Ollivander. She forced a smile as she gained control of the staff. It was a bit heavy for her liking, but it seemed strong and rigid. She didn't know why, but she held it up, and brought it down to the ground. As it struck a circle of fire appeared around the base and traveled outwards. She shrieked and jumped back, releasing the staff. Harry jumped forward and grabbed it before it fell, and Hermione stumbled into her desk, and fell nicely into her seat. 

"Bloody hell, Harry! Yeh said it wasn't charged yet!" Moody yelled through a grin.

"It hasn't been" Harry said. Moody's grin quickly disappeared. Hermione felt insulted that they didn't even care to ask if she was alright.

"Whatta yeh mean, it hasn't been. Than what in bloody hell was that?" The few students that had stayed behind because of having nothing better to do had left. Moody was confused at best.

"It hasn't been charged. We're going to do it tonight. Fawkes put a feather in my staff. Don't ask why, but he did, so I think it also has the properties of a wand, I think." Harry said this all very quickly out of anxiety. Moody sat back down.

"Does Albus know?" Moody asked.

"No" Harry answered bluntly. 

"Don't tell him, le' 'im assume it's normal" Hermione put on her best scandalized face, and it was duly noted.

"Don't look at me like that" Harry said. She turned to Moody.

"Look, Granger. 't's best fer Harry here if his staff is more powerful. Albus probably won't charge it if he knew. It's best this way" Moody almost looked sincere.

"Fine, but I'll have no part in it" she chastised.

"Don't worry, you never did." Harry turned back to Moody effectively ignoring her. "Anyway, are we still on for tomorrow night?"

"As far as I know. Twelve-ten at 9 & ¾. They'll be 'bout twenty. We'll be six. I think th' odds're in our favor" Moody said with a laugh.

"I doubt it, but at least we know the time and place. And I also have taken suspicion off of Snape. Voldemort thinks it's someone else. I bet his last suspect is me. Whatever happened with the ten prisoners from the attack here?" Harry asked.

"They were all foun' dead 'n their cells. Panic, there was. Ten deaths righ' under th' Ministry's nose. I suppose it was one of the Life-Bather's" Moody said with a frown.

"Life-Bather's?" Hermione asked.

"They are the exact opposite of deatheaters. They are fanatically against Voldemort, and kill his minions any chance they get. They don't want information, they just want death. They're almost just as bad, but they weren't behind it. Voldemort was. He told Malfoy that it was his last chance. He could either save the ten of them, of he had to kill them. I guess we saw his decision" Harry said. They all fell quiet. "So you take the easy way out of teaching and have anonymous people do it. Why the anonymity?"

"Some o' 'em do top-secret things. Can't have th' Ministry after them, now can we" Moody said.

"I know, they're doing a hell of a job with me as it is, and I recently made it to the top ten most wanted criminals list. Second actually, just behind the guy who stabbed Fudge in the leg" Harry said with a smirk, Hermione let out a small grin. It had been a very funny situation, as was described in the papers.

"Sure'd like te meet the fella" Moody said as he reclined in his chair. Harry visible shivered. "What is it?" Moody asked.

"I just had a disturbing thought, I'm behind the guy on the most wanted criminals list, that means I'm behind myself. Ew" Harry said with a wicked smile. "Actually I'm surprised no one figured it out yet" Harry smiled. Hermione stopped her smiling and went into an automatic frown.

"You haven't killed anyone have you?" Hermione asked. The question weighed heavily and the silence slowly fell, darkening the room.

"Only the one, at the Dursley's. But I have been involved in another. I didn't do it, but I was there and didn't stop it, if that's what you mean" Harry said slowly. Hermione felt the fear leave her. So Harry was innocent, but the question obviously ruined his mood. "Anyway, as I was saying before, you take the easy way out of teaching. So, who have you had in so far?" Hermione knew what the answer would be. Every time anyone asked Moody he always said "Merlin, Gandalf, and the Seven Dwarfs."

"Well, 'is guy was Murtonston." Moody responded, Hermione bit her lip in nervousness. She didn't want to know.

"The drunken auror?" Harry asked, Moody nodded. "I had a drink with him only three days ago. He never mentioned he would be talking here. Oh well, who else?"

"Schmidt came 'n and spoke 'bout 'is banshee pursuits. 'e asked 'bout yeh." Moody said.

"And you told him…" Harry responded.

"Tha' yer fine, and makin' impossible progress. I thin' he's taken a likin' to yeh. We also 'ad a dark magic detector named Ames." Moody said.

"Never heard of him." Harry responded.

"Yes yeh have. 'e's calle' The Ghost" Moody pushed.

"Oh yeah, he was staying in the town near Malfoy's place. I hope he turns something up on that beast. I've learned enough about him to put him away, with a sentence of eight deaths, sixteen dementor's kisses, twenty six lives in prison on top of a little over eight hundred years behind bars. I think only Voldemort and Forscythe surpass him, and if I hear correctly, Draco has already started on the same path." Moody took this in with great interest, before burying his face in his hands.

            "An' I gotta teach th' littl' bastard anyway. Bloody 'ell." Moody groaned. Harry sat in thought for a short while. The silence was comfortable as Hermione tried to commit everything to memory.

            "Well, I better go before your next class arrives, hate to be seen in public, especially now that the Ministry is after me. I'll come and talk to you later Alastor. Don't do anything to cruel to the buggers, because deep down, they really do want to learn, and they may even like you a little" Harry sidestepped a swat from the man and had his wand drawn before Moody could look up. "Hey old man, falling off your game. Don't get lost, I need to talk to you later."

            "I know, but 's long 's I'm here yeh can fin' me anyway with yer little map" Moody growled. 

            "I know. If you need something to cheer you up I can tell which two students were in the broom closet  on the fourth floor, hell I can even tell you how far they got" Harry quipped with a smirk. 

            "Git outta here 'efore I kick yeh out. Always nosin' yer nose where it ought not teh be" Moody smiled back. 

            "Yes, well, what can I say its in my blood" Harry said as he left the room. Hermione was close behind. She was pleased to see he had waited for her.

            "How long are you staying?" Hermione asked.

            "It matters" Harry responded. She hated when he did this.

            "On…"

            "When I find a place to life, or when I'm chased away by deatheaters or the Ministry, or when I get bored of this place and decide to move on" he said with bluntness. She swerved as she tried to regain balance of her books. Harry took the top two off the stack for her.

            "Chivalry is not dead" she said sweetly to him. He sighed.

            "Yes it is, and you know who to blame for it" he said as he shrunk his staff and place it in his pocket.

            "Who?" she asked.

            "The feminists, of course" Harry said with a nice touch of bitterness.

            "Oh, so you're sexist now, don't think women are equal, is that it?" she retorted.

            "No, it's just that there is a fine line between fighting for equality and fighting for superiority. And if any man stands up against it he is automatically a male chauvinist pig, so I don't quite get the equality part, and therefore I naturally dislike feminists. You do notice they are feminists and not anti-genderists, or humanists, or equalists, or -" Harry stated.

            "Alright I get the point, but you have to admit they made society better, improved society, and have had a _mostly_ good impression." Hermione fought back. Harry only shook his head.

            "Right. Lets think about this from the perspective of two centuries ago. We were the ones in the fields, we, meaning men, were the ones doing the physical labor, we were the ones supporting the families before the entire feminist movement. So tell me who was at the disadvantage? How long does it take to clean your entire house, Hermione? Just vacuum every room, a little dusting, putting things away from one day of use. How long?" Harry pressed, she knew he was going somewhere with this.

            "I don't know, if I really tried? Three hours." She said.

            "Lets say four hours for arguments sake. Now how long does it take to prepare a hot breakfast, lets say pancakes, assuming you could cook?" Harry said.

            "Twenty minutes?"

            "And lunch sandwiches?"

            "Ten minutes."

            "And a large, hot dinner."

            "Like thirty, forty minutes. Where is this going?" She was getting frustrated.

            "Right. Now we have four hours for cleaning. Add an hour for dinner, and another hour total for both lunch and breakfast. That is six hours of actual work. Six hours of exertion. Six hours of Male chauvinism. All the time this is happening, men were working twelve, fourteen hours in the fields, and you women got the rotten end of the deal. Right? Tell me where it is worse off for you." She knew he thought she had her, but she wasn't going to be so easily fooled.

            "The fact that we were forced into the work without consent is a violation of our freedom." She said while smiling. She was used to fighting with Ron, but found out now that the skills she learned from fighting him were quite useful for once.

            "Right, and our obligation to spend fourteen hours in a field is not a violation of the same rights. Yet only the women get an improved situation, and now were stuck with the same jobs, the same hours, the same crap, and the only difference is that were coming home to no dinner, and an empty house. Is that supposed to make society better?" Harry retorted. She had to admit she never thought about it from a mans pint of view. But even now sexism against women was a problem. He wouldn't win this debate while she lived. He was spouting bullocks and she would make it stop.

            "So all the women are the problem. Us having no rights and not being able to go to school and vote. None of that is important. The fact that there _still_ is discrimination against women only shows how wrong society still is" she nearly shouted.

            "No, women aren't the problem, it's us men. We take too much deceit, lies, and half-truths and accept them unquestioningly. We are too scared of the backlash to stand up for ourselves. It's pitiful, and it's cause by feminists. All the fashion magazines and what-not are always spouting titles and stories like _How to seduce your co-worker and stuff like that. Yet when the wrong guy catches on it's sexual harassment. How is that fair?" Harry said. For once she was stumped. She had seen those magazines, some with stories by that exact title, and it only occurred to her now the consequences of such actions. "Another thing. We're supposed to be, chivalrous, as you put it. You want us to open doors and give you jackets. Hell, I've seen men give just about everything to their girlfriends and wives, yet they get nothing in return. It seems we have to do so much more for the love of a woman than they have to do for us. Is that the way it's supposed to be? Are the men supposed to spend their money on dates, gifts, candy, while they are making the same, or in many cases less than the women? Why do we still follow some of the activities of chivalry? Are we supposed to not only worship you and serve you, but receive less in return? Where is this infamous equality?" Harry said. Hermione wished so badly she could have ten minutes in a library, then she'd put him straight._

            "You're being a real idiot Harry, I hope you know that. Your angry so you blame women-"

            "Feminists-"

            "Whatever. What's next? Women? Witches? Muggle borns? Do you think V- V- Vo- You-Know-Who just started hating Muggle borns? It starts somewhere Harry, and it's starting in you dammit! Would you open your eyes and see what's in bloody front of you. Are you so helplessly blind that you don't see everyone willing to help you? You spend all this time preaching about how you want to be so bloody normal. Well, normal people have problems. You have problems! We all have problems! But we can help each other. Why are you such a coward that you run away from the only people that really know you? Why are you blaming people who have nothing to do with you? What is wrong with you!" Hermione stopped at that, realizing how loud she had been yelling. She expected to see a realization on his face. Sorrow, sadness, regret, guilt, fear, panic. He only showed sorrow. She knew he wasn't telling her something. She had enough of this crap. "If you want to be a selfish and pitiful person about this, fine! I need to-"

            "I'm dying" he said quietly, staring her straight in the eyes. She checked her watch to buy time before she displayed a reaction. 

            "W- What?" she sputtered in disbelief.

            "Never mind, you have class, don't be late." He turned and swore at himself as he walked quickly away.

            "FINE! Harry. Run away like a coward. Go and hide from the evil world. Go and have your fun. If you won't confide in me as a friend, then we might as well not be friends. I don't want to talk to you any longer. Stay the bloody hell away!" She yelled as he made it to the end of the hallway. She heard her words echo in the stone corridor, and she sighed, knowing the dishonesty in her own words. He had stopped and turned around. She could still make out the look on his face; it was clear as day. He looked relieved, like he had been liberated.

Hello everybody. Nice to see you all again. 

Paladin Steelbreaker- Here is some Hermione with a spine for you. I have portrayed her with very little courage in this story so far, because she is insecure about her attraction to him, and in desperately hiding her feelings, she is very careful about not saying things that might make him dislike her, or even things that may upset him.

NAPPA- Good to see you old chap. Don't we all like to see Hermione with Harry in the nude, or at least close to it?

Sugar Quill- You can stop waiting now.

Peacebunnie- It is a slow story, but only because I try to make all the details important, and there are a hell of a lot of details. Nice to know you noticed the name of the reporter. Thanks for reading,

kickedoutofthegoblet- That was a warm and fuzzy review you left me. I enjoyed it very much. Thank you.

Jarvey- Thanks

Daman- I _could not keep up the work, but then it would make all of us sad._

Night Child- I'm not so sure about this being so great. Read NAPPA's stories before you tell me that.

cyberfrogx- I hope the interest remains.

hpangel- the unnecessary damage you mention may not be as unnecessary as you think. I'll explain it later on.

Quis- You guessed right. Mini-bears is an inside joke. I give everyone permission to use it, though. No snogging yet, not till the end.

HrryPttrFreak87- I'm trying to hurry. The second semester of senior year we're supposed to do nothing and slack off, but our teachers keep giving us more work. I'm sorry.

angel- Glad you love it.

sew2100- and now here's more.

ALPHA WOLF- close, very close on the guess. I think you'll like his staff.

BlackDragon- Harry isn't smaller than Flitwick, but he'll get pretty damn close.

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed. Sorry this chap took a while, but I disliked some of it and decided to re-write. I hope you enjoy it. Drop me a review! Happy ****Reading****.******


	30. An Inside Job

            "So, how do we do this old man?" Harry asked. The sun had set, but a gorgeous orange glow remained on the horizon. 

            "Do you know what the single most powerful object in the world is, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked.

            "The person (Dumbledore started shaking his head back and forth) or persons who had developed the ability to manipulate the magical forces held within the largest planet in the universe, or on a more realistic level, the earth." Harry said nonchalantly.

Dumbledore turned to him.

            "The earth was the correct answer." Dumbledore said as they continued walking across the field in front of Hogwarts.

            "I disagree. The earth cannot be a powerful object by our definitions because by our definition of power, the earth has no power. The earth only has energy, which an individual or group has to grasp. Once the energy is grasped and manipulated, they, in essence, become the most powerful magical objects. Luckily, Voldemort thinks that part of Merlin's _Secrets of true Power is crap and doesn't believe a word of it. Arrogance will be his downfall." Harry said. Dumbledore nodded in all the right places. _

            "It's reassuring to know you've thought this through" Dumbledore said with a trace of sarcasm.

            "Yes, but as my goal is to become the most power wizard in the world, I have to know this shit" Harry said with his voice full of ridicule. "So how do we do this?" Harry went back to his original question as they neared the forbidden forest from the Quidditch pitch. 

            "I charge it using the earth. You will have to do it every few years, for magic does not last forever, and dissipates. But it will fill your staff enough to be used effectively. One advantage of a staff is that not only can you lean on it when you are as old as I, but if you feel weak, you can use a small amount of magic, to do powerful spells by placing your staff in the ground and using the earth as your magic source and not yourself. However, wielding your staff is a bit slower an clumsier than using a wand. You should always use the method you are most comfortable with." Before Harry could respond, Dumbledore raised the staff in the air and started muttering in latin. Harry translated it to understand what was going on. _Wood of the earth, meet your giver and accept the power into your veins. Be strong and accept all that is provided. Dumbledore slammed the foot of the staff deep into the soft ground, and there was a subtle shaking of the ground as the staff began to glow red. Slowly the color turned to orange, then yellow, then green, blue and purple. Finally, there was a flash of white light, not unlike a camera, and all was still and quiet. "There you are Harry. I would recommend training with it a while, so that you know it well enough to use it. I must attend a meeting now. Be safe, and do not try anything too difficult on it. Staff magic is hard to control, and I do not want to see you injured."_

            "I know," Harry said, "I'll behave, I promise." Harry said with a very artificial innocent face. Dumbledore shook his head and started walking back to the castle. Harry pocketed his staff, and with a soft pop, disappeared.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

"Stop whimpering, dammit!" the young man yelled. It really was pathetic that these supposed top-notch guys couldn't take a bit of a the game. "I may not kill you, I just want some information. You can give me information. If you don't, than I'm afraid you leave me NO OTHER OPTION!!!" He screamed as he kicked the man in the back. The man got back into the kneeling position. Physically ready to be executed, but not emotionally. He was crying aloud now. 

            "Fine, you had your chance. If you don't tell me in six seconds, you will suffer more than even your leaders can claim to. I will force the pain. I won't stop until your dead." The man's eyes went wide in shock. "Yes, that's bloody right. I won't stop when you're insane with it. Nope, I'll go all the fucking way. This is your final chance, tell me where the book is, and I possibly spare your life." He could see the man's barriers breaking down. It wouldn't be long now.

            "B-but he'll kill me if I tell you." He whimpered.

            "I can protect you. You see that despite his workings I am still alive. I have knowledge and power beyond his conception. Tell me and you will be safe. I may even take your family too. You would like to have them near you, right?" The man nodded. "But if you don't tell me, they will share your fate." The young man said. 

            "You sick, psychotic bastard!" The man shouted as he tried to stand. A sharp kick to the back of the knee and he was kneeling once again, and whimpering. 

            "I know what I am, and I will do everything it takes. Where is the book located? You can tell me, and this can all end. I will crucify you otherwise. Life, or the death of your entire family. Don't make me include your nieces and nephews, and your other extended family. Hell I'll even take out your wife's family, but before I kill anyone, I will explain, in detail, why **you** caused them all to die. Is that what you want?" The young man said as he circled his victim slowly. He saw that the man kept glancing at the he was holding to his head. 

            "Fine. Fine. You sick son-of-a-bitch. I'll tell you. But… but you have to protect my family. He'll come after them. The things he- he would do to my little girl…" the man broke down in sobs. "It's in the underground cavern, north-east of hull. It's his personal library. We go there sometime to get things for him. It's unprotected, because only three of us know about it. There are no wards I know of. I don't know where exactly the book is, but it would probably be in the back shelf. That's where most of the rare books are. That's all I know, I swear it. Please don't kill me. Please." The man begged. He watched as his captor stopped suddenly and took out a small plastic door from one of those muggle toy building sets. He enlarged it, and opened it, revealing a cobblestone street with modest buildings on either side. Despite the darkness outside, in the door it was daytime.

            "In." The young man said. 

            "Where- Where is that?" he asked.

            "It is a prison. I think you will enjoy it. You'll get your wand back in about eighty hours. Your wife and children will be there momentarily. Trust me when I say that I was never going to kill you, nor was I going to torture you. I am not going to make you suffer, only contain you. You can still lead a productive life here, with your family. There is a lot to do, so you won't be bored and locked up. In a couple hours two men will come to see you. They will copy your body, so I can set you up as being dead. That way, he won't come looking for you. You'll be safe here. I am the only one who can get in, so don't worry yourself. You'll forget about it in a few days anyway. Just go in, and I won't have to force you. You'll enjoy it a lot more if you do it on your own." He watched as the man made it to his feet and stared at him nervously. He took a deep breath, more of a sigh, really, and walked through the door. He turned to look out, expecting it to close sharply, locking. But the young man on the other side politely slid the door closed, and with a soft click it disappeared into the wall he had just walked out of. His feet began moving, and out of shame and exhaustion, he let them go.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            Harry sighed as the door closed. He hoped the guy would like the prison. It was a bit of a far fetched concept, but he hoped the guy turned around. He _did give him the information. Now all he had to do was pick up the guy's family. Not too difficult, and then he had to get the book. He wondered what other books Voldemort would have in his collection. This one was of particular importance though. He had assumed that Voldemort had stolen it the seventeen years ago, and he had assumed right. Who else would break into the Ministry to get _The Secrets of True Power_ written by Merlin himself. It was too obvious. _POP__

            Harry regained his composure and looked around again after apperating. He had made it to the poor bastard's house. He tip-toed up the stairs and opened the door to the master bedroom. In the bed was the petite form of a woman, about thirty. She was sleeping by the sound of her breathing. Harry checked the net door. He knew he had the right room when he noticed the pick walls. He checked the bed and saw a little girl sleeping. She was snoring softly, and it was the funniest sound he'd ever heard. Guessing that they would want a few of their things with them, Harry decided to box a few things. The mirror in the hallway. The portrait at the top of the stairs. The teapot collection in the living room. The furniture. By the time Harry finished his rough calculation of what he would take for them, he realized he could take the whole bloody house. He would end up with half of it anyhow. 

            Harry apperated outside, and coated the walls, roof, and foundation with a magical field. He walked in to check just to make sure they were still sleeping. He took a deep breath and was ready to start.

            "'s that you, Jake?" came the voice from the bedroom. He kicked himself for breathing too loudly. He tried desperately to thin of a way out of it. "Jake, Honey?" the voice said again. Harry didn't move, still trying to figure out what to do. He heard a sigh, and the rustling of the sheets. Then the breathing continued, and in a few minutes he guessed she had returned to sleep. Harry moved back down to the first floor, and said the words. He felt the house mold around his energy, and he opened and passed through the door. He set the house down on a vacant lot, and transported the guy to his own bed. He had hoped the guy was asleep but, he was sitting up with bloodshot eyes when Harry made him appear on the bed. 

            "W- What!?!?" the guy yelled as he found himself in a new place. 

            "Jake! What is it?" His wife said, waking up, and clumsily sitting up. Harry turned on the lights and stood at the foot of their bed.

            "That's all. I'm about to go and kill you off, so have a nice time. I'll stop in a see you every once in a while. You haven't slept, so have you had a chance to look around?" Harry said, ignoring the woman who seemed very disoriented and confused. 

            "Yes, I stopped at the all night café. I got a coffee, and went to the apartment you gave me. Thank you for my family…and my life" He said very emotionally. Harry nodded in return. 

            "Well, I have to get the book, and you probably have some explaining to do…" Harry said as he glanced at the woman, "…so sleep well. I'll check on you tomorrow just to make sure you're comfortable. Good night."

            "Good night" the man said. Harry smiled and apperated. Maybe the Jake would turn it around anyway. Harry sighed and shook the sleep away from his head. He had one more stop tonight.

            Harry appeared in a very dark and earthly place. He used his wand to created light enough for him to find and ignite the torches. He saw the back case, and walked over to it immediately. He knew some of these books would have tracking charms on them. Harry scanned the bindings until he came across it. It was a large book, even by Hermione's standards. He smiled as he thought about himself no longer being her friend. It made life easier when you had no one to please but yourself. 

            Harry withdrew a yellow orb from his cloak and set it down on a desk. He placed his wand against it and muttered softly. The orb lit up and despite glowing yellow, sent a green light around the room. Harry walked around it in a circle to make sure that the light wasn't shadowed by him. After about three minutes he was getting bored with the damn walking around the orb. It was supposed to work. Harry knew he could only stay so long before he was found out. Being found out by Voldemort would not put him in a healthy situation. Getting frustrated Harry sat on the very desk the orb was on. He could practice his wandless magic. The orb hovered above the desk, and Harry sent it in a circular path around himself. He accelerated the orb, not because it quickened the pace of it's work, but because it forced him to focus more on the path of the orb, hence making it a lot easier to do. He noticed after a few more minutes, a few of the books were turning green, and even fewer red. Others were just purple. It was too vague to tell for sure, so Harry continued swinging the orb. Another ten minutes passed. About one third of the books were glowing now. Greenish-blue, red, or  purple. He knew that the green were the books which were being traced. Not actively, but had tracing charms on them. Those would be easy to take care of. Then the red ones had trigger mechanisms on them. Again, easy. It was the purple ones which would pose a slight challenge. Both traced and triggered. Harry noted that all of Merlin's work acquired by Voldemort was glowing green. He must have valued them. A bunch in the Salazar Slytherin section was red. The purples were few and far between. A reassuring thought.

            Harry decided to take all the spells off. It would make all his work easier. "_Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem, Finite Incantem," Harry took a few breaths. He still had a ways to go. There were so many books that it had looked easy to de-magic them all, but he had neglected to calculate the total number of books he had to address. It was a relatively small number, but overall, the number was great. He had very precious time, so Harry pocketed __The Secrets of Power just in case he had to make a fast getaway. _

            He resumed work, and shortly he was damp with sweat and had slowed from fatigue. He finished the last book and sat down. He felt a soft vibration in the floor and placed his hand on the desk. The room was shaking softly, and suddenly stopped. He was tired, but he tried it anyway. He closed his eyes and made a mental reconstruction of the room. He 'felt' his surroundings and mapped every uniqueness of every shelf, every stone on the floor, even the dirt ceiling. He opened his eyes as he found it. A doorway behind one of the bookcases, with nothing on the other side. In _this _world. Harry walked over to the bookcase and recognized it as the one with the most triggered books. He had deactivated all of them, and threw the books down carelessly. If he learned anything while working at the bookstore, it was that most books could go through a nuclear holocaust and survive. They weren't nearly as fragile as people made them out to be. He saw behind shelves the outline of the door and tore the shelves off the frame of the case. He grabbed the handle, and holding his breath he opened the door and stepped in the stone cave which appeared in front of him. He looked around. On the walls were maps. There was a large table in the middle of the room which had a map of the world on it. There were pictures of all sorts of vile creatures, and photographs of famous people, including himself. It looked like a headquarters. 

            "Bloody world domination assholes" Harry muttered. He watched as the map on the table turned into a globe and floated up to the ceiling, revealing a step by step list of how to conquer the world. It was odd looking at Voldemort's to do list. '1.  Recruit followers; create a current of domination in the underworld counter-culture. Use followers to draw attention away from self. Make Dumbledore appear foolish and unbelievable. 2. Attacks on key individuals of power. Scare into service, manipulate, and destroy. Instill fear of a silent killer going through magical world. Include evidence leading to dark rule in china. 3. Have follower instilled into Minister position. Cut resources in auror training, and evil prevention in general. Make sure Potter and Dumbledore know you are behind it. Nothing weakens resolve like fear and guilt. 4. Come to full power through arcane therapy as described in the words of Merlin, the mud-blood loving fool himself. 5. Abduct students close to Potter. Torment them and return them to Hogwarts. Give Potter fear, and Dumbledore desperation. The old fool cares too much for his pupils, it is his greatest weakness. 6. Lure Potter away from protection at residence in Surrey, or Hogwarts. Capture and torture. Kill nearly immediately, do not provide opportunity for escape. Kill him while in pensieve on his parents dying, completing what was started. After end of Potter, display corpse in Ministry Lobby. 7. While in mourning, attack Dumbledore at funeral. Dispose of Professors. Acquire school, and destroy ministry from inside. Resistance will be minimal, result of learned helplessness described by Povlov. One of few brilliant muggles. 

            Harry sighed. He wondered why it said he lived in Surrey. His house there had been destroyed months ago. Harry examined some of the artifacts in the room. So this was headquarters for "mission world domination" Harry said. The globe turned into a map and covered the table once more. Harry decided immediately that he had to do everything in his power to slow the process, to give Dumbledore a chance. The books appeared to be the key to Voldemort's knowledge, so the books had to go. But would burning them be a destruction of precious knowledge? Perhaps, but confiscating them would both stop him, and give you some much needed information. Harry pulled out a trunk and returned to the library. He was glad that he researched spells which would come in useful while working at Flourish and Blotts, because this would same him ages. He opened the trunk and made the inside the size of a small bedroom. He waved his wand and bellowed his voice, and every single book flew off the shelves and went into the trunk. Harry kicked it closed. He shrunk the trunk and slipped it into his pocket. He took one last look around. The shelves on the ground, the door to the office opened, the orb on the desk. Harry decided to leave it. At least it would confuse the hell out of Voldemort. Of course it would be obvious to what Harry did, but the fact that it was left behind would create an obsessive doubt in the crazy bastard. A paranoia which Harry hoped would eat away at him for a while. Taking in a deep breath and feeling slightly noble and moral, Harry whipped his wand around, and with a soft pop, the room became empty.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            The man walked in and quickly assessed who was present and not. He checked his  watch. Fifteen seconds before the meeting officially began. As the last seconds ticked away the missing individuals all appeared. They immediately found their seats and became silent as the clock struck. He began.

            "What is going on?" He asked. He didn't have time for small issues. This was the important shit, pardon his French. 

            "We have twelve individual attacks. Seven confirmed. Total of forty eight confirmed deaths, all from a lone wandman. Angered, cruel, merciless. Witnesses described the man as a snake, with a split tongue."

            "Thank you number six. Do we know the cause?" He continued.

            "No." said 1.

            "No." said 2.

            "No." said 3.

            "No." said 4.

            "Yes" said 5, "Yesterday, very late at night or extremely early this morning his personal library was breached. His entire collection was stolen. Every single book. They knew which ones would set off alarms and de-activated them. They destroyed all of the trace signals. They even went into his central command. There were only three living people who knew the location other than himself. Of them, one has been found dead. He and his family burned, alive it seems, in their own house. It's a dead end and he was furious. He's taking it out on the muggles." 

            "Thank you Severus. So this is bloody random, but it is him. Do we know who caused it?" 1 said as he looked around the room. "Anyone?" No one responded. "Anyone have any ideas on who might have been involved?" Again the silence. 

"Life-Bathers?" said number 2. 

"It's a long run." Said 1.

"Well, think about it. They are anti-deatheaters. They could have found the guy, tortured him into telling them where the library was. Killed him and his family, gone and stolen the books, and left without anyone knowing. It sounds as ruthless as they are." Said 2.

"Does anyone else feel like there is something being left out?" said 1.

"Yes, according to this there was no mark." said 4.

"Mark?" asked 3.

"The life-bathers leave a mark. A waterfall cascading off of a dead snake. There was no mark. I don't think it was them." Said 4.

"I have to agree." Said 1. "Any other ideas?" There was a long silence. "Anyone who we've seen fighting the death eaters?"

"Harry Potter!" said six. This was rebuked by many a laugh. Even 1 was chuckling. Six was laughing as well.

"Well, there seems to be nothing we can do. If you come across anything come to me, and keep thinking about it. Thoughts can be stimulated by the oddest of occurrences. Have a nice week." 1 turned around and started through the door as everyone apperated away but number five. He began following and soon caught up to 1.

"Albus, what Black said may have some merit to it. What if it was Potter? What if he found the bastard and got him to talk. What if he made it to the library and broke the traps. He may not be a genius, but he is no fool and appears to know how to prepare himself if he needs to."

"Severus, how could a boy of such an age move so many books so quickly without setting off one alarm?"

"I didn't want to say it, but a detectionary orb was used. And you of all people know Potter worked how long in a bookstore. He naturally would have researched how to magically move books quickly and quietly. (Albus stopped walking.) The more I think about it, the more of a perfect candidate he is for the mission. I just couldn't see him killing the man's family. That's why I didn't say anything."

"Maybe they're not dead." Dumbledore said.

"Despite being burned almost beyond recognition, Voldemort had all the tests done. No tampering with the bodies could be found." Severus stated.

"True, magic to change one's features is detectable and reversible. But if it is engaged, and the body is severely damaged…" Dumbledore said.

"As in being burned?" Severus asked.

"Yes, then the changed features will become the features of the body, or in this instance, I think they were corpses. All he had to do was change them and burn them. He probably got the bodies from a graveyard." Dumbledore said pensively.

"But then where are they now? Three people cannot just disappear, especially from Him." Snape remarked. "And how would Potter know to do half of this?"

"All summer while he was working he was reading free books from Flourish and Blotts. He is still underaged, and me his legal protector, so I see all of his bank records. His book sales have increased ten fold since he left his job. He is reading, studying, faster than Miss Granger ever has. He is becoming a wealth of knowledge, for what purposes no one, not even I, know. He is a smart boy. You do remember how brilliant his father was?"

"Unfortunately."

"Yes, well lets just say the son of the only man ever to escape being a prisoner of Voldemort has a son whose IQ is slightly higher than his own. Only now has Harry learned to use it, an his progress is incredible." Dumbledore claimed.

"How do you know?" Snape asked.

"A month ago he bought _Basic Training in the Dark Arts. Five days ago he bought _Theoretic Magic._" Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye._

"So?"

"Volume six. He has made it to Volume six. That is two farther than I have gotten, four farther than you, one farther than Remus, three farther than Sirius, two farther than Voldemort himself. Five farther than Miss Granger." Dumbledore said mildly.

"Are you saying he's smarter than all of us, including Granger?" Snape asked incredulously.

"Yes. Tell me, Severus. Has the boy ever asked any questions in your class?"

"Of course Albus."

"Describe  the situations."

"When everyone was confused, even Granger."

"Did he appear to really ask the question, did he pay attention to the answers?"

"He looked at everyone else when I explained it, to make sure that he wasn't the only one confused." Snape said.

"Or was it to make sure that he clarified it for everyone else. You must remember that this is a boy who hates to stand out. If he appears smarter than everyone else, then he'll hate it. It is easy for him to play stupid. He has Mr. Weasley to look up to for that." Dumbledore said. Slowly the realization came across Snape's face.

"Holy mother of god." Snape whispered.

"My reaction exactly. You have class in about ten minutes. I'll leave you here. I expect you'll want to talk later, so I'll be available. Don't hesitate to come by." Dumbledore said as he stepped through the door to his office leaving Snape alone and in shock in the hallway.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            "Your homework for tonight. I want a fifteen inch essay describing why using a tail scale and a neck scale of a dragon have different effects. You are dismissed. Ms. Granger, may I speak with you for a minute." She froze and he saw her gulp. He knew he was disliked, but this was excessive.

            "Sit, Granger." He commanded as Neville went through the door, the last to exit the classroom. "What are your thoughts on Mr. Potter's intelligence." She looked at him queerly, and he realized how odd he must have sounded.

            "Um. He's smart enough to take care of himself. He knows enough magic to protect himself." She said quickly.

            "Right, tell me something I don't know. I was thinking more along the line of… You are the known know-it-all of your class, so naturally whenever anyone has questions or they need help, they come to you, no doubt." She nodded. "Did Mr. Potter ever come to you for assistance?"

            "Once or twice. When we did our homework together we would discuss it and he would ask things." She said. He was encouraged that she was very awkward.

            "Did he ever appear like he was acting, or holding back. That he knew something but didn't want to say it?" Snape asked.

            "No." She said. 

            "Think about it." Snape pressed, and she did.

            "Well, back in third year when you made us write that essay on werewolves, Harry practically begged to see my essay, but at the time he had written more than me. He was writing smaller, so it looked like it was less. I thought that that was odd." Hermione said.

            "Good, anything else?" Snape asked.

            "Last year, when Harry was training for the third task, I saw him a few times up a lot later practicing his spells, but the next day when we went over them, he wasn't nearly as good as he was the night before. I attributed it to sleepiness at the time. And then in the second year when Harry talked to the snake in the dueling class, when we took him out n the hall, he seemed like he was acting surprised but not really, like he had known he could do it. And in first year when we got to the potions to decide if he could go forward or not, as soon as I read the riddle, I saw him look meaningfully at one of the vials, and when I used logic to figure it out, that was the one. I thought that he had detected it magically, or that he had just known. But this all can't be true. It has to be coincidence." Hermione said, now very bewildered.

            "Yes, I know Ms. Granger. You may go to your next class. It is all a coincidence, however I have other matters to go and speak with the headmaster for. Good Bye." Snape said. He stood up and swiftly left the room. Hermione shook her head and made a not to think about this later. Hell, she would have to take next class to think about this too. 

Thank you all for reading and staying with the story for so long and so far. Thank you again to all of my cherished reviewers. They are my motivation.

**Hermionelover**- When Harry and Hedwig are high, you will know about it, I assure you. Because Harry and Ron haven't talked recently, Harry doesn't know their reaction. So we don't either. We will get to Fred and George later. I have something lined up for them.

**The Star Angel**- When will Harry and Hermione get together? Well, lets see. Harry has to go foreign, go dark, go very dark, go cynical, go protective, go fighting, go concludingly, and then he gets with Hermione. No, you do make a lot of sense, there is meant to be a lot of confusion, it gives me the oppurtunity to go either way depending on which I feel is better as the story progresses.

**Ethan**- I know my spelling isn't perfect, nor are my tenses and verb use and sentence structure. My english teacher would assassinate me if she read this. But oh well, I do use spell check, but because of my cough-less than legal copy of Word- cough, it has it's mistakes. Sorry for any inconvenience.

**Hpangel**- You mentioned that Harry said two words no one wants to hear from a loved one. What is really going to blow you mind is why he said those words.

**reanne080**- I'm glad you mentioned fudge. I want to punish him somehow, but just killing him off doesn't fit well. If yo have any ideas, let me hear 'em. Fudge does deserve a good whooping.

**Special thanks to everyone who reviewed. I read them all and appreciate your voice. Have a happy St. Patricks day, and don't get (too) drunk.**


	31. And Darkness Falls

            Harry stood and waited. He placed the resonance poles strategically around the station. The wizards and witches waiting for the evening express to Hogsmeade were watching him curiously, but he didn't care. He supposed Dumbledore and Moody and Lupin and the others would show up _beforehand to set up strategic systems and prepare for the siege on the train, but no. They were to busy to care. _

            He felt it. A slight twinge. Over the last few weeks he had become more sensitive to when they were coming, and had been able to find a proper place to stay. He left his poles on a bench and jogged to the restroom. As soon as he entered he found a stall and sat done on the toilet seat. This would be one hell of a ride. 

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            _It was bright. Too bright. Blinding. It was a projection on a white screen. From a muggle movie projector. In the luxurious room was about a dozen men, in black cloaks and holding drinks. They watched as a narrative was explaining something. Harry couldn't understand what it was. He followed his sight, and noted that, as usual he had little or no control over it. He wasn't seeing out of his own eyes. The screen went back to showing a tower standing in the middle of a desert. And then another painful flash came off the screen. It was too fucking bright, but he had no control to close the eyes. He watched as the light dissipated and he could see what they were watching. He knew what they were thinking. He even knew why. _

_            He kept watching in shock and anger as he watched a mushroom cloud rise on the screen._

_            "That, my disciples, is the most powerful weapon of the muggles. One can quickly and immediately destroy an entire city, and nearly everyone in it. A few could create enough havoc to have the muggle world destroy itself without any other interference from us. It is this, that we must acquire. In time, I will tell you of our plans and preparations. You may go." Harry watched as they all stood up and left. He felt his mind coming back to his body, and finally he was able to open his eyes._

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            He was very upset that the blood got on his shirt. He had liked that shirt, and even magical cleaners didn't do so well against blood. Maybe he could go and get another one later. He dabbed some water on his scar, and smirked as he watched steam come softly off of it. He knew he wasn't getting anywhere in trying to stop the pain, stop the visions. He knew that he probably would never be free of them, not until he died. Ironically he would probably be feeling the very same pain, just more, before he died. He sighed and made his way out of the washroom and back onto the platform.

            He looked around and saw his resonance poles had been moved a little. Bastards couldn't keep their hands off them could they. Harry fixed the positions, and laid the last few of them as best he could. It was only a few minutes now. Harry watched as the last few people boarded and with a shrill whistle, the train began to move. There was a pop and Harry turned to his right, wand drawn. He let out a vague smile.

            "Moony. How are you?" Harry said more out of courtesy than curiosity. 

            "Fine Harry, just fine. And how is being a fugitive?" Moony said back, his voice void of any emotion.

            "Actually it's quite exciting" Harry responded without the enthusiasm.

            "That's a very immature thing to say Harry. You are always in peril now. It is not something to joke about" Remus said in an uncle-ish voice.

            "Everything in existence is something to joke about, including existence itself. Being alive is the biggest joke there is, Moony. I'm surprised you haven't recognized it yet" Harry said in his normal 'I don't really care what you think' voice. 

            "How can you say that after what your parents-" Moony began.

            "Sacrificed, boohoo. Jesus fucking Christ, Moony. They're dead, and I bloody well should be too. Their deaths are just as fucking comical as everyone else's. Don't look at me that way, death is funny, because it is the greatest fear of the world, yet it is the one great inevitable. Why do you think Voldemort wants to beat death, because than it is no longer funny, because he will be the one laughing. It has very little to do with power, his quest for immortality. You, who has been fighting him for years in the past, should have seen that. My parents died, and that's it. There is nothing special in it. They weren't good enough. Natural selection made a cut, and they weren't good enough. Go argue with Darwin. Talking about them is fucking worthless." Harry said. He wasn't even breathing heavily. 

            "How dare you speak that way. Who are you to spit on the graves after they sacrificed themselves for you? Who the hell do you think you are?" Moony said, his voice rising.

            "Right, they sacrificed themselves when sacrificing themselves was not a hard decision to make. My father attempted to stop Voldemort. What a fool. He never thought of putting traps in the house, on the doors to delay the bastard. He knew he was going to loose, and he only sent my mother and me on is because he didn't want to fail in front of her. He had to keep his fucking pride. And then my mother, crawling away with me, begging for my life. It is very easy to sacrifice yourself for something when you already KNOW YOU'RE GOING TO DIE! But no, she's great and wonderful because she saved me with her love. Love is crap, and we all know it. Its definition is bullshit, and the way people act is just that, acting. The better of an actor you are, the better you can fake emotions and you always doubt yourself and go into denial with the emotions you say you feel, but you know don't exist. This entire world is going to bloody hell, and I will be laughing when it happens." Harry said, he had raised his voice as well, and he could tell Moony was shocked. He seemed beyond words, and Harry supposed that maybe the man wasn't prepared to hear the truth. He would rather remain one more sheep who follows the flock.

            "What has happened to you?" Moony said quietly, confused and dismayed.

            "I grew up, and decided not to believe anything anyone ever told me, and what I saw was enough for me to hate everyone I ever knew. It's all lies, Moony, all lies" Harry said. They stood in silence a little while before Alastor Moody showed up. He noticed the tension and stayed quiet. Then Dumbledore showed up. He had his calm game face on. Harry watched as they exited the perimeter of his resonance poles. They would be soon. He took out his wand and waved it around, warming up his fingers. 

Three soft pops announced the arrival of three men Harry had never seen before. Dumbledore smiled at them and Harry lost all suspicions. He watched Dumbledore as he asked small groups of people to leave the station. It was obvious he was trying to avoid collateral damage. Harry prepared himself, and not a moment to soon. There was a series of pops and there was a large group of black robed men standing in front of them. Harry saw that only a few were in his resonance poles. Harry pointed his wand at the nearest one. _"RETARDUS" Harry yelled. A blue lighted went into the pole, and then transferred directly to every other pole he had placed. It created a fan effect, until after it reached the other poles; they did the same, sending the spell crossing through the area. All four in the area immediately looked confused and stupid. _

            "_Infernus__." A wave of fire was sent out at the six of them, and they were forced to separate. Harry ended up banging his knee on a bench. He turned around fast enough to stun one of the deatheaters, but they were still significantly outnumbered. He saw Remus fall, and he sent a jet of water through the center of the deatheater group. About nine fell over and a few lost their wands. Harry watched as Dumbledore doused the flames on Moody's robes as Moody out-dueled one of the deatheaters, despite having pegged leg.  Harry saw three turn to him at the same time._

            "_CRUCIO", "SECARUS", and__ "RASTUS FORMIDUS" all were sent at him. The 'secarus' hit him first, and it felt like a thousand box cutters went across his face quickly, opening his flesh up to the elements. When the 'rastus formidus' hit him, it felt like every muscle in his body was being stretched to an incredible amount of pain. When the last one hit, he had not option but to scream. The scream was so loud, that even the deatheaters had to stop to see what had cause such a noise. Dumbledore took action and in a flash six more deatheaters were on the ground. Remus had made it to his feet, although unsteadily, and was gripping his wand tightly. "__Strahltriebwerk" Moony yelled, but it came out more of a hoarse whisper. A long flame came out of his wand and he used it to strike the three deatheaters closest to him. "__Oleum" Moody sent into the fray, spraying a black liquid over many of the remaining deatheaters. The liquid soon caught fire, and many of them were screaming in pain. They tried water on the flames, but it only spread them more. As all of the deatheaters were now on the ground, the standing of the light went one by one and disarmed the men before stunning them and putting out the flames. The smell of burning flesh filled the air and one of the three late arrivals threw up on the platform. Remus made it over to Harry. He was lying on his stomach and was blowing bubbles in the blood around his face on the ground. He smiled weakly at Remus._

            "This is funny" Harry whispered. He barely had a voice left at all. "Laugh, death…" Harry coughed up some blood, "…death is funny. Remus, laugh at me." He watched as Harry closed his eyes, and drifted off into sleep.

            "Albus, we need to get him to St. Mungos" Remus called over his shoulder.

            "No, take him to Hogwarts. Here, it'll take you both straight to the hospital wing. Poppy is waiting for arrivals." Dumbledore said in a raspy voice. It seemed that only Alastor Moody came out unscathed, and he was happy to skip around kicking the scorched bodies of the unconscious deatheaters. He was picking objects off their bodies; orbs, papers, amulets, magical objects, even a comb. 

            People who had begun returning to the platform, upon smelling the burned flesh, immediately turned around and left. One of the three men who had come late was out, and Dumbledore was having trouble awakening him. And then it happened, the one voice they all feared came across clear and calm.

            "Albus Dumbledore, in your own words please, can you please describe to me exactly what happened, and your objective, or what you desired to achieve here this evening?" All of them looked at her white faced. "Oh, I'm sorry for not introducing myself. Rita Skeeter, freelance reporter. You may have read some of my work."

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            Harry smiled as he read the Daily Prophet. On the front page was a picture of a dozen or so smoking bodies, lying on the platform. The headline read "**Twenty Four Deatheaters Attack Express to Hogsmeade. All Captured at Platform 9&¾. Mostly Minor Injuries, Harry Potter Critically Injured." Harry didn't mind this for some reason. Maybe because it was almost the truth, or maybe because it would scare a lot of people straight. She didn't hold back at all, naming everyone who fought for the light, and everyone who fell for the dark. A lot a families would be indicted, and humiliated, and disgraced from the magical community. Oh it would be a good day. One of the poor deatheaters was scorched so badly he lost three limbs; two legs, but no arms. He had to smile at how polished Rita could say such things. The guy would never have a kid, that was for sure. Harry kind of liked his own little bed in the mighty big room. The room was too big, but because he was surrounded by curtains, he felt much more comfortable. He turned as the curtains moved and Madame Pomfrey came in with a tray of oatmeal, orange juice, and a very large steak. Harry looked at the steak oddly. He never heard of steak for breakfast. She judged his look.**

            "You have a lot of muscle tissue to repair, and you need the amino acids. Eat up, or your scarring may be much more significant" she said. Harry felt his face. Sure, his skin had no scarring, and was repaired to a perfect shine, but he knew that she was talking about all of the flesh on his face up to half an inch below the skin. If it scarred, his face would never feel the same again. It would be like wearing a mask for the rest of his life. Harry ate the steak first, before moving on to the oatmeal. He began to hear a very loud and shrieking voice somewhere "out there" as he liked to call everything outside of his curtains. As he finished, Madame Pomfrey removed his tray and he thanked her. 

            "I'll be leaving shortly, probably this afternoon. Thank you Madame Pomfrey, for everything" Harry said.

            "Oh, my. Well, it was nothing dearie. I can't make you stay, but may I at least recommend it?" She responded.

            "Don't worry, I'll make sure it is put on the record" Harry said as she turned around and slipped out of the curtains. The yelling was louder, but it abruptly stopped. He heard the door to the Hospital wing open and close, and he waited to see if anything happened. As soon as he gave up hope, a tall white bearded old man came through the curtains. 

            "Good morning my dear Mr. Potter" the man said.

            "Albus. How are you, and what was that bloody noise?" He saw the headmaster's face visibly show signs of stress.

            "I am surviving, I think. I was just having a very civil discussion with Ms. Granger about your location. It is very difficult to tell her you are fine when she refuses to stop waving a damn, pardon me, a darn Daily Prophet in my face. She is very upset by the article by Ms. Skeeter" Dumbledore explained.

            "Ahhh, yes. I was very pleased to see that Rita made it. I thought she was going to miss all the festivities" Harry said with his trademark smirk. Of course, that particular smirk had been patented by James Potter years before, but upon his death the rights to it were passed onto his son. Albus was encouraged by this. 

            "So you have allied yourself with the likes of Rita Skeeter?" Albus asked as Harry sat up in a more comfortable position.

            "Not really, I have just hired her services for my own personal gain and power" Harry said.

            "You make her sound like she works in a brothel" Dumbledore commented.

            "Maybe, but when you think about it, is she any better?" Harry said. He was please to see the headmaster contemplate the thought. "Anyway, thank you for bringing me here to be cared for. But I'm afraid I must go. I have appointments to get to, and lives to save and destroy. My schedule is quite full, and I'm afraid I will be leaving in a few hours" Harry said.

            "Would you like anything? Reading material, games, company, visitors?" Albus asked sincerely.

            "No, the paper should keep me busy until I leave" Harry said, "thanks for asking though. I'll visit here soon" Harry said as he went back to reading the Daily Prophet. He looked up when he realized that the headmaster had not moved.

            "Visitors?" Dumbledore asked again.

            "No, they don't know I'm here, and I would prefer to keep it that way" Harry said, with such bluntness, that the headmaster was taken aback.

            "None? Harry, that is no way to treat your friends. They are very concerned about you, you know" Dumbledore said. He saw the boy reconsider his decision, and relaxed. 

            "Alright, if you insist, send Ron up here, I would like a word with him anyway" Harry said blandly as he went back to his paper. This was not the response that the Headmaster had expected. If anything, the boy in front of him thought too much about his decisions, and never took the plunge, emotionally speaking. Probably because he never knew love, and when it was so close to him, it had been torn away, all because of one rat who had already been captured, and was secretly being kept unconscious in a coffin buried three feet below the judges bench in the Greater London Magical Courthouse.

            Harry watched the man leave before rolling over and taking an object out of his end table. This would have to do for farewells.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            As Ron stepped through the curtain, Harry was putting on his shirt. Ron thought he saw a large scar across Harry's chest. He quickly passed it off as a trick of the light. He hesitated as Harry turned to him and offered him a friendly smile.

            "Good to see you Ron" Harry said.

            "Hermione's really upset about the attack at Kings Cross" Ron responded.

            "If she wasn't I wouldn't believe it was really her. Anyway, how's your wand?" Harry asked as he finished buttoning the shirt. 

            "Fine, I guess" Ron said. 

            "Good, well you remember how we broke your wand in second year?" Harry asked. Ron nodded. "Well, I know you know that your original wand is always the most compatible with yourself, so while I was at Rangeeyo Labs…"

            "You were at Rangeeyo Labs?" Ron asked, obviously surprised.

            "Yes, very nice people there. Anyway, they were doing some experimental things involving wands, so I gave them your old one, and they appeared to have fixed it." Harry handed Ron a long thin piece of wood. "The resin on the outside was fixed up as was the entire piece reworked and re-engineered, it only matters how it reacts with you" Harry said as Ron fingered the wand like a long lost possession, recently returned. He lifted his wand arm, but before he even got it to the top, a white smoke began to churn out of the wand. Then suddenly there was a shower of multicolored sparks and a small explosion, startling both of the boys. 

            "Wow! I never felt so natural with a wand before, this is bloody amazing" Ron said. Then the shrieking began.

            "Who did it, who did it?" the voice screamed. It was then that Harry saw that the sparks had ignited the curtains. Harry whispered a quite spell and the flames just disappeared. Madame Pomfrey appeared, red faced and furious.

            "It was and overactive nerve in my arm, sorry Ma'm" Harry said with total honesty. She turned and left, muttering about replacing perfectly good curtains. 

            "Harry, this is really cool" Ron said excitedly.

            "Yup, and now you have two wands, where as soon enough I will have none. That's not important. Tell Hermione I say hi, and that I'm alright" Harry described.

            "The Daily Prophet said you were seriously hurt, but you appear fine" Ron pointed out.

            "Yes, well Jesus Christ visited me last night, and we all knew he was quick at healing people" Harry said. He noticed the confused look on Ron's face. "Never mind. Look, I'm going away for a while, so you have to look out for things around here. Particularly Malfoy. Get Hermione to watch him closely as well. I have a feeling he is going to let something slip, and that information can be invaluable" Harry explained.

            "Alright, but you've already been gone for months, why are you saying you will be gone?" Ron asked. It was actually not a bad question.

            "Because this will be a more permanent type of away kind of thing, does that make sense?" Harry said. Ron sort of nodded before he stopped himself.

            "Good, hold down the fort, Ron." With those words, Harry disappeared. Ron looked behind him and saw the scorched curtains. It verified what had happened. Ron sighed and walked away. This would take some translation. What did Hermione have this period? Runes or Arithmancy, Ron never really thought about it.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            "Who was it?" he asked. The other man was on his knees with his hand tied behind his back, execution style. 

            "I told you I don't know" the man said. 

            "_Crucio_" The man who was forced onto his knees screamed and fell forward. The spell ended shortly. "You must realize that your fate lies in your own hands. Come on, William. You know that you can help me. Six, innocent little children were killed, and I want retribution. Just tell me. One name. That's all I need" the young man said.

            "I have nothing to say. Pffft." The man said and spit on the reclining figure.

            "I am a man of my word. You have five minutes to tell me. Before that, and I protect you until the war ends, after that, and I kill you, regardless whether you tell me or not. But until then, I will torture you. Now I know you have been able to sustain yourself for twelve minutes straight under the Cruciatus Curse, so I will go for muggle torture instead." The young man went into a bag he had and pulled out a few objects. "Now most would go for the butcher's knife, but I always preferred a steak knife. Being serrated was always a plus. Now, some may say I'm gay or whatever for doing this, but you know what, after so much publicity, I don't really care." The man watched in fear as his hands were tied to a loop in the ceiling of the room. The rope was pulled and he was forced into standing. Despite his struggling, his ankles were cuffed to the ground, leaving him standing and vulnerable. 

            The young man approached and dropped the prisoner's pants and underwear. "Be sure to tell me how this feels" he said before he dug the blade into the flesh. The man's scream was incredible and overwhelming. But the young captor would not be forced away. He slowly had the blade slice across the flesh until it fell of. The man was defeated immediately, and very disoriented and confused from the intense pain, humiliation, and sense of loss. It was not long afterwards that the young captor cauterized the wound and proceeded with heating iron rods for branding the man. He kept yelling that he knew nothing. 

            The young man cut a circle of skin off the man's back, between his shoulders, and placed one of the iron rods against the man's spine. He shrieked like an animal helplessly injured as the searing hot metal came in contact with his spine. The screaming never stopped as the young captor repeated the action over and over, digging the metal deeper, burning closer and closer through the spine. Finally, the man started speaking.

            "Fine, fine, I'll tell you. Stop, please. I'll tell you. Brian Thorndyke. It was Brian Thorndyke. Please" the man tried to yell but his voice was gone from the screaming and it was barely above a whisper. His captor stood in front of him and shoved a watch in his face. It read 5:48 and then 5:49, and then 5:50. 

            "Thank you for the information, but as you can see you are too late. With your loss, I don't know why you would want to live anyway? Goodbye." The young man placed his wand against his prisoner's temple. "I would like to tell you that this won't hurt, but I don't exactly remember correctly. I was only a year old at the time. _Avada__ Kadavra." And then there was silence. The flash of green light left the prisoner limp and cold. He was hanging from his wrists and he was undoubtedly dead. _

            Harry untied the rope and let the soul down to the ground. He expected guilt, shame, fear, self-disgust. He felt none, he only felt pity; for both his victim, and himself. He looked at what he did, and he sighed, and took in a deep breath. It smelled like death, he didn't know why, if just did. It's not like it, the body, smelled at all, it just held around it a blackness, a darkness, and emptiness, a void of life. And for some strange feeling, he laughed. 

One more done. One more chapter done. I hope you all enjoy and leave a review. 

**ADJ**- Ahh, Mystery you say. The Mystery is so deep that you don't even see the mystery yet. Shall we rename the story "What's Killing Harry Potter?" to make it more obvious?

**Hermione Princess**- Not exactly, but you are kind of close. I'm only going to say that there is a relationship between his vertical challenge and his "dying." Extra points to you.

**Quis**- That is a little bit of my motivation, to confuse my readers, so that they may loose track of some details, because then only the most focused readers will be able to try to figure out what will happen next. I don't want to be predictable.

**Mordre**- Can we agree that the Mary Sue Harry has taken a walk down the dark side, hence breaking down the Mary Sue-ishness. I needed his to be near perfect before I could make anything but. My story is all about catastrophic fluctuations and instability. I hope you can see that.

**Genesis 3676**- He shrinks the trunk, making it much lighter, much, much lighter. 

**Thanks to everyone else as well. Have a wonderful evening.**


	32. Miserable Failings

            He stood and looked across the water. He found a place where he was comfortable staying for a while. As the frigid air passed over the warmer waters, a two foot thick layer of fog drifted just over its surface. It gave the appearance that the tugboats going into and out of the harbor were floating through the clouds. He turned and began navigating his way back to his apartment. He got it dirt cheap, but then again, it wasn't a very nice place to live.

            He checked the numbers of the streets. He loved how well organized the city was. It was so easy to get somewhere as long as you had the address. He found his building and walked up the steps to the door. He passed an old African woman as he took his keys out of his pocket and began searching for the right one. 

            "'uo don' need 'nee keys. Lock don' work**,**" she said louder than she needed to, as the city was quiet this early in the morning. He didn't say anything back and pulled on the door. It creaked loudly as he entered the building. Ignoring the garbage and mice in the hallway, he walked up the stairs to the third floor. He used his key to open his door, to find a man going through the few bags in the room.

            "Hey, what are you doing!" Harry yelled. The man dropped what he had in his hands into the bag and turned around. 

            "I was jus' goin' ta help ya unpack. I live downstairs, and was gunna help ya unpack**,**" He said quickly. Harry knew he was lying**,** but he really didn't care. 

            "Get out**!" Harry said powerfully. The man nodded and ran out, leaving Harry in his empty flat with his few bags, and his things scattered nearby. He sighed and waved his wand. Everything went into a tilting wardrobe in the corner of the bedroom. It looked like it was going to fall with the push of a straw. He locked his door, and this time included the deadbolt. He looked over at his bed; a rusty metal frame and a torn mattress. He felt it should do…he slowly sat…**** then lay down on it, waiting for the exhaustion to engulf him in darkness.**

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            He knew his mission. All he had to do was get a pass into the Magical Library and Archives of London and leave with three books, the titles of which he had on a parchment in his pocket. He knew the curse to dispel the protective spells on the books so they couldn't be damaged or removed from the library. Upon the destruction of his master's library, he needed to restock. This mission, if successful, would be followed by many others to seize information from this institution. 

As he made it to the desk, he was handed a permit. He strode straight to the section where the first, and most important, book was located. He waited impatiently while someone down the aisle was using the ladder. He snatched it as soon as they got off and went up to the tenth shelf of books. He scanned the titles quickly before taking the book out of it's place. He cast the spell and slid it into his hidden coat pocket; first objective complete. He felt a shudder run through the ladder and he looked down. A short person wearing black hooded robes was standing at the base of the ladder with each hand gripping the frame with such force, it was clear that the person below held on with grim determination.****

"Hey, stop that**," he said with a slightly broken voice. He wasn't aware of his own anxiety. He watched as the person stopped and pulled out a wand and pointed it right at him.**

"Put it back, or you know what happens**,**" the short person said. Right then he knew that the person knew what he'd done. There were very few options leftnow.

"What's your price?" He said, half confident that this person could be bought, just like anyone else.

"If you make me do this you go to Azkaban and I go through a very long and painful inquiry. Just put it back, leave, and everyone wins" the little man said. He had moved to the side of the ladder, and tapped one of the wheels on the bottom with his foot, making it shudder again. 

"Look gent, I don't know who you are or what you want, but I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement**," He pleaded. He watched the short man shake his head and glance down at the ground. He looked up with a sudden sharpness. **

"I tried to reason with you but you give me no choice" He watched as the short man took two steps back and kicked the bottom of the ladder. He clutched it, expecting it to collapse, but the ladder remained intact as it flew down the aisle, remarkably staying on its track. He looked back and let out a loud whoop**, glorying in escaping the little bastard. He didn't even see it coming. **

One of the arms protruding from the ladder to the track on the bookcase reached the end and was torn off like a toothpick. The ladder's wheels at the bottom hit the step and sent the ladder swinging to the ground at a very fast pace. He had not been holding on during his celebration, and his body was catapulted** like a bean bag into the next shelving unit. There was a loud thud and a spattering of blood as his body recoiled from the shock and fell the rest of the way to the floor. **

The pain was intense, and he sensed that the book had made its way out of his pocket. He groaned as he realized he couldn't move his arms. He wondered if someone would see him and get help. Everything was silent. 

He felt a strong hand grab his arm and pull, turning him over to look into the brightness of the lights. People were talking to him, he could see their mouths moving, but he couldn't hear a sound. He saw many of the people look away from him, and someone else joined the huddle above him. It was the same short person, a sullen look on his face. The young man grabbed his neck, and then put his ear over his mouth. 

The injured man tried to yell out for someone to save him, but he saw the short man extract his wand, and with a small movement, everything disappeared into darkness. 

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            Charles Pinnet woke up in a very strange place. There was a goblet hovering over his chest with a little note attached telling him to drink up. There were noises, he noticed, an incredible improvement from what he last remembered. He turned to his right and saw another person there. Actually, there were quite a few. They were sitting in their own beds, talking, yelling, and cheering. He followed their line of sight** and saw a live omniocular feed, displaying a moving picture on the wall. He let out a loud moan as he let his head fall backwards into a pillow; his head pounding with a fierce headache.**

            "Pinnet?" he heard. It was the guy in the bed to his right. "Pinnet! You're awake**! Good grief, you gave us all a scare. You came in here missing half your mind and more than half your blood. It was all over the Daily Prophet too. He got you in the Library, how embarrassing. Don't worry about him though, he's not so bad, even a bit lenient with us. People out there tell me it's not half bad. You work, and get the weekends free, and everything's provided for. Just gotta behave ourselves, but we can do that, can't we mate?" the man said with a loud laugh. Charles winced at the pounding in his head.**

            "Where, am I?" he asked, knowing that this blithering idiot, who he knew as Wiesnaz from the circuit, would turn a few phrases into an essay. 

            "You're in prison, like all of us. Not like Azkaban. No, thank the lord not there, but more like a place where you get a second chance. The Man's real nice about it too. He brings in your family, protects you from Him**… makes it like you disappeared or died or something so He doesn't start looking for yeh. Probably real suspicious by now, with all of us blokes vanishing so quick and the like**,**" he said loud enough to instill pain on Charles' brain. Charles ran his hands over his head, trying to numb it. **

"Hey, Pinnet, drink the goop he gave yeh, it'll make yeh feel better."

            "Do I have a choice?" Charles asked, glancing once more at the plain silver goblet hovering over his body.

            "Sure you do. But I recommend it. Makes yeh feel like a kid again. If you can't see the picture, The Dover Dinglebats are leadin' the Puddlemere United, One seventy to one fifty." Wiesnaz turned back to the screen as Charles eyed the potion suspiciously. He plucked the goblet from the air and closing his eyes, he took a long draught, finishing it swiftly. It felt like oatmeal and tasted eerily like it too. He wiped his mouth and felt more aware, his mind became very sharp, an he immediately grasped the logistics of his situation. 

He was in a large room, maybe twenty by fifteen meters across. There were twelve beds along three walls**; all of them facing the screen where the quidditch match was being shown. There were large windows between all of the beds and one door. There were no bars or locks but there probably were wards and charms. He found his wand on the nightstand. He looked at it queerly. Who would trust him with a wand, especially now that he was in prison? He picked it up and tried a simple spell on the window. It opened, and a warm breeze entered the room. Greatly confused, he glanced at all of the other men in the room, most of them had food and drink. He saw that nearly all of them had their wands in easily accessible places. What kind of prison gives back wands?**

A sudden thought struck him. What if they had put limits on the wand? What if certain spells couldn't be done? '_Avada__ Kadavra!' He spoke while pointing his wand at a nearby pitcher of water. The glass shattered and the water hissed as it splashed all over the floor. _

"Hey now! What was the bloody meaning of that!?!?" came a yell from across the room. He recognized the man from the Torturer's Guild of the "organization." He saw that nearly everyone therewas from the "organization." 

"Oh, sorry, just checking my wand. That's all**,**" Charles said as he slipped it in his waistband. As far as he could figure it, he was in a prison which did nothing but separate him from his master. As he let fatigue worm its way into his brain, he smiled a small smile, and went to sleep.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            Harry looked over the mist on the water as he had every morning for the past two weeks. He felt like the fog, always there, but separated and formless with the smallest of disturbances. A sharp ringing of a bell momentarily turned his head, he then turned his back to the water and watched a young woman jog by with a dog.          

It made him think of Hedwig. She had just made a trip back from China after making four deliveries there. The sack of Galleons she brought back was enough to sink her if she fell into the ocean. Harry had tossed the money aside as soon as it arrived. It didn't interest him any longer. He was always prudent with his money and quite generous as well, but he no longer cared about it. He no longer cared about a good many things. 

            Hedwig was exhausted as expected, and he let her sleep. She would find him soon enough, and she would be broken, but she would still complete the last task he would leave for her. 

He looked out from the pier and couldn't even glance at the rolled up parchment as he dropped it to the wooden planks. Because he had been lazy and broke his last quill, he had written it with a pen, and even paid Blind George who hung around the deli to sign it as a witness. He had left a few notes to Hermione and Ron and left his inheritance to the Weasleys. He left a letter of apology to Sirius, and a portion of his savings to aid him. He even took a chance and wrote to Voldemort; a little paragraph conceding his surrender from the pointless struggle. 

Harry looked around and marveled at the city around him. He now knew why it was termed the city that never sleeps. The streets were always lit, and there were even people walking around at all hours of the morning. He checked once more to see that no one was watching. He ignored the tugboat as it passed by lethargically against the flow of the river. He tied the rope around his ankle, and picking up the cinderblock, he jumpedoff the pier. He felt that he wasn't floating, he let go of the block, allowing it to drag him down into the frigid**,** murky**, water.**

His mind panicked momentarily, and he began to try to struggle to the surface, however he quickly remembered his purpose andlet himself relax. He looked into the pale darkness and listened to the splashing of the water against the pylons of the pier. It was finally his time to pass on into the unknown. It was his chance to know peace.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            He had to admit it, it was dreadfully boring. He had felt that sitting here and explaining to the headmaster that all this talk about 'you know who' rising again was rubbish would be fun. But he was wrong. He wasn't often wrong. He was Lucius Malfoy and he knew his limits. This was just some fun he conjured up to amuse himself. Threatening the headmaster to keep quite was not an everyday activity. As he let his mind and eyes wander, he caught a glimpse of Shiela Fiertag. She was one of the other governors of Hogwarts, and a nice piece too if he did say so. Maybe he could convince her to meet him later. He needed something to distract himself and she could be a very desirable distraction. 

            He glanced over at the old man being interrogated. He was saying this and that about the end of the third task and the boy's account, which Malfoy had to admit, was very detailed and accurate. What a mistake that night was. He noticed that the headmaster kept glancing at him, as if the knowledge that he had powerful friends would humiliate him. Malfoy began comparing himself to the headmaster, who the world simply adored. 

            He was an old bat, a crazy one too. He was too kind and too knowledgeable for his liking. He was smart and wise, and he knew how to teach mudbloods how to do a few tricks. He was nothing compared to a Malfoy. He was a loyal servant and a powerful adversary. He had enough notches on his belt to make even Ted Bundy queasy. He only wanted more though. One was of a teenaged boy who ran from home, the other was sitting right in front of him, explaining the dangers of his master having been reborn. 

            He saw a flash in the vicinity of one of the old man's fingers. His fingernail was flickering, or was it under the fingernail. It was glowing dimly red for fractions of a second at a time. Malfoy examined the man again. He appeared perfectly calm despite the lightshow on his finger. Malfoy didn't know why, but curiosity was eating at his mind. It had already become an obsession. He needed to know what was going on…

            "Lucius…Lucius? Are we done here?" the governor next to him asked. He saw that he was getting odd glances from his acquaintances. 

            "Yes, I apologize, but a sudden thought stole my attention. What have we decided on?" he said very smoothly. 

            "Nothing, my dear boy**,**" said the oldest of the governors as he patted Lucius on the back. "We find that your concern was a little hypersensitive, and we plan on doing absolutely nothing. Now, it's nearly time for tea." Lucius watched as everyone around him apparated away. He grabbed his head and nearly pulled out his hair. Something was wrong.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            He couldn't open his eyes, and it was aggravating him to an extent that** he had never reached before. If he did make it to heaven, he wanted to bloody see it, and if he was in hell… well, he'd like to see that too. He could feel his entire body and found that it was intact. A sudden and sharp pain radiated through his chest and he gasped. Air, He was still**** breathing. The words that were running through his mind would have made Voldemort cringe in fear. It was then that the voices came. **

            "Well, what does it show?" said a female voice.

            "I don't see anything out of the ordinary, but that doesn't prove anything. Maybe a little overactive in this region**,**" the second voice said. It had more authority. Harry conveniently labeled that person number two.

            "What region is it?" the first person asked. 

            "It seems to be right on the edge of the right motor cortex. He may be slightly paralyzed on his left side. We won't know until he, actually, _if he wakes up" number two stated calmly. He must see this a lot. "I must say this is a rare case. I mean, how long did the witness from the tugboat say he was under? Twenty minutes? Your brain begins to die after five, plus it was freezing. Hypothermia alone should have killed him."_

            "I thought of it differently. Could the cold water have preserved him, kind of like cryogenics? Did you find any identification? Anything on him?" said number one.

            "I don't know about cryogenics. I mean, twenty minutes is still a long time, I'd say impossible if he wasn't laying here now, in perfect health. As for ID, I think the police said he had nothing on him but sixty dollars and twenty three British pounds. They have it, but no ID**,**" said number two. He sighed as it sounded like he took a seat.

            "British pounds? You think he's from England?" asked number one.

            "I have no idea, but that's my guess. They contacted the authorities over there of course**," number two stated.**

            "How old do you think he is?" the woman asked. Harry wanted to yell out that he was there, that he was alive, that he should be dead, but his jaw refused to move. His entire body refused to move. 

            "Oh, thanks for reminding me. I had no idea. I was going to guess twelve or eleven, but his face looks a lot older. I ordered a bone scan which I have yet to look at." There was a heavy silence. "It says he's between fourteen and sixteen, but there are some oddities in this. Maybe I'll send it to a specialist. It looks like he should be a lot taller. Maybe he's suffering from malnutrition?" number two said in a baffled tone.

            "He's thin, I'll give you that, but he's not _that_ thin. How much taller should he be?" One pressed. 

            "We'll, he's about four foot two, when according to this, he should be about five ten, maxing at six foot one when he hits nineteen. He is really far behind schedule. Maybe if he had malnutrition at a young age. I mean, he could, theoretically have be starved his entire life and only found a food source recently. He could have filed out in a couple of days, throwing us off**," number two said with the same grasping for possibilities kind of voice.**

            "Do you have any more patients to see?" number one asked.

            "No. He's my last for tonight. I told the cop at the door to call immediately if he wakes up so I may be in again before the night is out. I guess I'll start heading home. Good night Gladys**,**" number two said.

            "-Night Doctor" she responded. Harry heard the shuffling of feet and again tried to move. He was unsuccessful but suddenly felt an odd sensation on the inside of his right elbow. It felt like there was tape on the skin, or a sticky glove kind of thing. He groaned silently and swore at himself in his head. He couldn't speak, he couldn't move, he couldn't even open his eyes. Fuck being paralyzed on the left side, he was paralyzed all over. The his and anger caused a headache which quickly spread to many regions of his skull, and he stopped thinking altogether, and just listened. There was breathing near the door as well as thehum of a fridge, a TV**,** or some sort of other** electric device. There was an occasional shuffle of feet as people walked down the hallway past his room. He heard the occasional car or truck drive by outside. He could hear his own breathing, and if he really focused, his own heartbeat which never bloody failed. **

            A most terrible thought suddenly occurred to him. What if he was forced to stay like this forever? Blind, immobile, and seemingly deaf from the outside. It would be worse than death. He was on a golden platter for Voldemort, who would in time find him. He tried to shudder, but his body didn't. Finally, out of boredom he let his mind wander.

            He thought about Hermione, and Ron, and Sirius who was still in hiding as the deliberating of the 'finding' of Peter Pettigrew went on behind closed doors. He thought of Dumbledore, and of Moody, with who he'd gotten kind of close. He thought vaguely of the Dursleys and of Ms. Figg who liveddown the street. He thought of the Weasleys, of Fred and George wreaking havoc in their last and most spectacular year. 

Harry tried to sigh, but the machine breathing for him prevented it. He realized that the pain in his chest was probably broken ribs. Maybe they did CPR on him. His mind shivered as he pictured a man kneeling over him, covering his mouth. To try to redeem the thought**,** he placed a couple women he had seen in his aunt's magazines treating him. 

He suddenly felt pathetic, fantasizing about women he'd never even met, for the sheer purpose of passing the time. He forced himself to stop thinking, and slowly, drifted into sleep.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            "Wake up, boy!" Harry snapped awake. It was a woman's voice, and its' tone wasn't nearly as demanding as he was used to. His mind woke, but his body was still unresponsive. He felt the coldness on the inside of his elbow again. He found that he had gained some control over his breathing. He was panting from the suddenness of his waking, but the machine was still pumping the air nice and slowly. He heard the shuffling of feet once more.** After a few minutes passed the sound of rolling wheels and yelling was heard. Harry breathed heavily in frustration as the noise entered what he assumed was his room. He didn't want a loud person near him. **

            "Just tie him down. He can't be allowed to leave. We'll lock him up after he's done here," came a gruff voice from Harry's right, the area near the door. Harry heard a lot of voices and a lot of moving. One person was yelling**,** screaming**, and crying. **

            "What did he do?" said the voice of another man. Harry felt he was a doctor**, nurse****, or something. **

            "Jumped into a subway stairwell and landed funny. He was trying to get away after running out of a store with over a thousand dollars worth of electronics," another voice said. 

            "Explains the broken leg**,**" entered another voice, this one was female. Screams of "DON'T TOUCH IT!" rang throughout the room. Harry's mind winced at the noise. Why couldn't he be put in a private room? _Because they think you don't really care_ his mind retorted. He held his breath despite the machine's continuous pumping. He tried to suffocate himself, or at least knock himself out, but his lungs always collapsed before he could get to that point. 

            "Hey, what's junior in here for? And how in the hell can he sleep through this?" said one of the men from before. 

            "He's in a coma, and he's not to be arrested. He tossed himself off a pier tied to a block of concrete**,**" said the woman. Harry had heard her voice in the hallway before and assumed she was a nurse. 

            "You sure he tossed himself? That's what you do when you want someone gone and you don't want nobody to find them. You sink em so they disappear. What witness said he did it to himself?" the man asked. Harry was really getting annoyed with everyone talking about him like he wasn't even there.

            "The witness was a guy on a tugboat passing by the pier. He called it in on the radio as it happened. Poor kid was under for a while. We don't know if he'll ever wake up. The guy swore the kid was alone, but then again, he did say that it was really foggy**,**" the woman said.

            "You seem to know a lot about what happened**,**" the man said suspiciously. Harry was beginning to think he was a cop.

            "We all do. He police officer interviewed the guy right in the lobby. We were all curious and had a listen at the door," the woman responded. "I have rounds to make. The man you leave at the door will tell you if anything happens." Harry listened and could barely hear the soft patter of feet leaving the room over the shuffling and creaking of the bed to the left of him. 

            After a few minutes, Harry was glad to hear that his room was empty of everyone but the thief, who was panting heavily and struggling against whatever was holding him down. Harry decided to take the opportunity to go down the checklist. He had created it for the sole purpose of wasting time. He started and tuned out everything going on around him. 

            _Feeling:_

_            Right pinky finger. Check._

_            Right ring finger. Check._

_            Right middle finger. Check._

_            Right pointer finger. Check._

_            Right thumb. Check._

_            Right hand. Check._

_            Right forearm. Check._

_            Right upper arm. Check, with slight pressure limiting circulation to fingers._

_            Right shoulder. Check._

_            Neck. Check, aching from remaining in same position for days._

_            Back. Check, aching from lying down for so long._

_            Lower back. Check._

_            Left shoulder. Check, however not in comfortable position._

_            Left upper arm. Check._

_            Left forearm. Check, laying across lump in mattress._

_            Left hand. Check._

_            Left thumb. Check, warmer than usual._

_            Left pointer finger. Check, warmer than usual._

_            Left middle finger. Check, warmer than usual._

_            Left ring finger. Check, warmer than usual. _

_            Left pinky finger. Check, warmer than usual._

_            Chest. Check, painful breathing, suspected broken ribs, cause unknown…_

            Harry continued his checklist until he got to the responsiveness part. He got very excited when he swore he felt his left pointer finger brush against his left middle finger, but he was unable to reproduce the effect. He discovered his total control over breathing despite the machine and his inability to open his mouth. He thought he may have made a noise and kept doing it until he was sure he was making the slightest noise with his voice. It was like humming one note but it was all he could do. He couldn't express his happiness at being able to make a noise and kept practicing his breathing. He passed two more days like that until one morning he felt a sudden lurch on his bed. He realized quickly that he was being wheeled around. He was turned left, then right, and soon after he stopped. He heard the sound of doors opening. Then forward. Than a sharp right, maybe turned around. He felt a soft jolt downwards, like he was going up on a lift. He heard the same doors again. He was pushed forward, then left, then right, another right. He was stopped.

            "Is it ready?" asked the man who had been pushing Harry. A reply of**, "yeah****," came faintly…as if it was said from another room. Harry felt an arm go under his knees and one behind his back. He wanted to resist being carried like a helpless child, but he was unsuccessful. He was placed on another kind of bed which was harder and less comfortable. A pillow was placed securely under his head. And he heard his bed rolling away. Maybe they moved him into a new room. Then he heard a door close and a few beeps. His bed began moving very slowly, but enough for him to notice. He waited as it moved towards the direction of his head. Then it stopped. And after a short period, it moved back going in the direction his feet were moving. He couldn't figure out what he was hearing during this whole thing. It was a deep kind of vibration, which vaguely resembled a machine of some sort. He couldn't figure it out, but soon enough the bed stopped moving, and the sound died. **

            He heard the door open and hewas lifted, and to his great pleasure, returned to his original bed. He was then wheeled out of the room and went back to judging turns until he got back to what he felt had to be the lift. The sound of doors opening was convenient and he was wheeled around a bit until he came to a stop. 

            He noticed that he had been listening to a lot of noises he had previously ignored and wondered if they had increased his sensitivity to sound, and touch for that matter. He had heard that blind people could hear better than regular people, however he never understood how they could know they were hearing better than they had. Could it just have been that they heard better out of boredom and a lack of distraction? Harry slowed his breathing and let his thoughts wander, remembering colors so that they would flash in front of his eyes, as he tried tovisualize what was going on around him. As his mind began to find its path into the dark recesses of sleep, a twitch of pain on his forehead awoke his mind to a new adventure. 

I hope you all liked this chapter. Tell me how you feel about it, and leave a review. I am so sorry this took so long. There were complications, and editing, and a lot of other stuff. I apologize, and hope you can forgive me. Tell me what you think about this chapter, and the story. I await your opinions and hopes for the story. A HUGE thank you to all of my reviewers. There are too many to name, but I appreciate all of your thoughts and feelings, and I hope to read more comments from you. Have a wonderful day.


	33. Lessons in Competition

It was dark and wet. It was dirty and murky. The sound of trickling water echoed endlessly, becoming a rolling sound instead of a distinct impulse. It was a cave, or a sewer. Harry couldn't tell which.  
Around a corner came a man. He was carrying something carefully wrapped in a dark cloth as well as a lit wand. He didn't walk like a normal person. His footwork was inconsistent and sporadic. He stumbled a few times as he approached the filthy place.  
"Is it intact?" said the voice Harry knew all too well.  
"Yes, yes master. I kept it intact. I hid it down here after. after you were weakened. Before they caught me I hid it, I knew they would never find it" said the stumbling man.  
"You have done me the greatest of services, David. I will make sure that the name of David Lestrange lives forever in my realm. I only wish I could keep you sentient longer" said the man behind Harry's 'eyes.'  
"After having your soul sucked out of you, being sentient, even if only for two hours a year, is a remarkable feeling," said the Lestrange.  
"Next year I will bring you back along with your wife. Even if you both are insane, you can still produce heirs. Your time is limited, it is time for us to go," claimed the man behind Harry's eyes.  
"Yes, Master. I know. Just a few more minutes. I only want to be here for a few more minutes."  
  
/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/  
  
Harry gripped his scar. It was burning more than it had in a good few months of dreams. He was sure it was imprinting itself on his skull. He placed his hands over his entire forehead, pressing down with a large amount of pressure. The pain forced him to stretch and it flew through all of the muscles in his body, his torso started to rock violently until he spasmed too hard and rolled off the bed. He felt a pinch on the inside of his right elbow and the loud clatter of metal as he struck the floor. He grabbed a cloth which made it to his hand, and wiped his brow. For the first time in three days, Harry Potter opened his eyes.  
He confirmed his suspicions that he was in a hospital room, and he was currently sitting on the floor. There was medical tape hanging off the inside of his elbow, and a needle attached to it, but no longer in his subcutaneous layer. Blood was creeping out of a vein in his elbow, and his head was lightly bandaged. He noted that he was wearing an all-covering robe, his clothes and all his other possessions he had on him were gone. Then he noticed the slightly overweight man standing in the doorway. The man turned around.  
"Kid's awake!" he yelled. Harry unsteadily got to his feet and sat on the edge of his bed as he became very lightheaded. He grumbled as a young man, maybe in his late twenties, and an older woman entered, looking at him with concern.  
"Is he alright?" the man asked.  
"Yeah, I bloody think so," Harry stated. His eyes were hurting from the light.  
"Alright. His accent suggests he's British. He appears conscious and aware. Strong enough to stand."  
"Yes, I know all that about myself already. And I was able to hear your bloody rambling while you thought I was asleep, so I know I have some sort of brain damage, just tell me what it is, and what I won't be able to do," Harry said sharply. The doctor glanced at the guard and the nurse.  
"Perhaps you would like to get dressed and speak with me in my office," the doctor said. Harry had to admit that he liked the idea. He nodded. The nurse sprung into action and opened the top draw, revealing the clothes Harry was wearing at the time of his attempted suicide. He noticed how odd his fashion sense must have looked to these strangers of the wizarding world. The doctor pushed everyone out of the room, and Harry quickly dressed. He opened the door to see the doctor staring at something with a look of pure concentration. The doctor glanced at Harry, before turning back to his open folder.  
"What's your name, son?" the Doctor asked amiably. Harry felt he was nice enough, and for the first time in a long time he remembered that he was just a child. Only fifteen years old and far from home.what home?  
"Harry, but that isn't really important," Harry proclaimed without much effort. He was still flexing his arms slowly, watching his body move and work. After being paralyzed, the ability to move was weird and powerful. He felt strong. He followed the doctor through a maze of corridors, and even through one corridor which went over a street. Harry watched a blue car zoom by underneath, and took a few quick steps to catch up to the doctor. In a very short amount of time, they entered a certain area with a yellow stripe on all of the walls. Harry guessed that it was a certain section of the hospital.  
He saw a small army of nurses going through the lobby, all opening the windows a crack.  
"Sharlene, what's going on?" asked the doctor. Harry stopped as the doctor stopped, and he waited for the doctor to tell him to do something.  
"They fixed the heat, Doc," the nurse responded.  
"Yeah, I can feel that, why the windows?" the doctor asked. He was clearly more than a little annoyed.  
"They fixed the heat, but then need a part or something. If they turn the heat off, then it'll stay off until they get it, so we need air to cool off," the nurse replied. The doctor didn't take this well, and guided Harry into a small office. On the desk was a large amount of unorganized and messy paperwork. Harry sat down, and watched as the doctor opened the window before taking the seat across from Harry, as opposed to the one behind the desk.  
"Alright. Harold. Harold, what was the last name?" the doctor asked.  
"Harry, and it doesn't matter. Just tell me what's wrong with me" Harry stated. The faster he got out of this place, the better he'd feel. The doctor looked up at Harry and seemed to size him up for a few moments.  
"Okay, Harry. Can you tell me how old you are?" the doctor asked.  
"Fifteen."  
"Where are you from?"  
"England."  
"Where in England?"  
"A suburb of London."  
"And how can we contact your parents?"  
"Through necromancy," Harry said after a short hesitation. The doctor looked up at this, and his gaze was met with one of the coldest, most helpless expressions he had the pleasure of knowing.  
"Alright. Who is your legal guardian?"  
"Myself."  
"Please don't waste my time" said the doctor, becoming agitated again. "I'm just trying to get you home. We will find out where you go, whether you help us or not." The doctor said.  
"No you won't. You had the cop look for a missing person's report from England. My.guardian doesn't even know I'm missing, and even if they did, they wouldn't file a report. They'd be glad to be rid of me. And according to most mug.legal documents, I don't even exist. I was wiped off the planet along with my parents" Harry said, letting his cynicism get the best of him. "Can we cut out the bullocks? And how about you tell me what's wrong with me."  
"He wants to get to the facts. As far as we can see, nothing is wrong with you" the doctor said calmly.  
"Then what was the entire talk with the nurse about being paralyzed about. About brain damage and such?" Harry asked.  
"Oh. I thought that you might have suffered some trauma to your head. But your walking was smooth enough, and you appear to have full control, so I immediately dismissed it. However, the situation from which you came here seems a little unclear. What do you remember from before your coma?" Everything was confirmed immediately. The boy, who had been so straightforward and direct, looked suddenly away. He remembered, and he was embarrassed. Perhaps it was time to bring in someone who was more associated with this field. "You don't have to tell me. I only have one more question for you. Your.stature has been increasingly a concern to us. As a fifteen year old young man, you should be significantly taller. We can't find any evidence as to why this has happened, or even how, and we were hoping that you may, perhaps, have some information-"  
"You wouldn't understand. I wouldn't be able to explain it to you," Harry said, returning to his stoic demeanor from earlier.  
"Could you try?" the doctor asked.  
"I could, but it would be a waste. I said you wouldn't understand," Harry pressed. The doctor appeared very frustrated with Harry. Harry didn't bother with it. He would be out of here as soon as possible anyway. Harry watched as the doctor put down his clipboard and rubbed his temples.  
"I understand that this must be awkward, difficult, and embarrassing for you, but I assure you that no one is judging you, and anything you can tell me will help us to get you home sooner. I only want to- Holy Christ!" The doctor yelled. Harry turned towards the window to see a very familiar face.  
"Hedwig!" Harry gasped. The owl hopped up and flew to Harry's lap. Harry ignored the doctor, pressed against the wall. Harry began stroking Hedwig as she nipped him, conceivably harder than she usually did. He just smiled at her.  
"Is- is this bird yours?" the doctor asked. Harry hated him for ruining his happy moment.  
"Yes," Harry responded simply. He held out his arm for Hedwig to leave. She was hesitant. "I'll be out soon. Don't worry," Harry reassured her. The doctor marveled as the bird nodded and flew out of the window. He was out of words.  
"I told you that you wouldn't understand," Harry said simply, his eyes staying focused on the open window where Hedwig had just disappeared.  
  
/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/  
  
Harry lay awake, looking at the ceiling. He had no idea what he was waiting for, but he was waiting. The police were more than pleased to find out it was a suicide attempt, so they could loaf around for a few hours before closing their case. Harry had also been brought to a psychologist. The man seemed rushed, and when Harry gave him trouble he up and left, ordering a nurse that Harry get placed back in his room, and that the cop not allow Harry to leave. This angered Harry, as the only thing he wanted to do that instant was leave, separate himself from all the professionals wanting to know why. Wanting to know everything he didn't want to tell them. Harry glanced at his table on wheels. He had finished his macaroni and cheese and pushed the table away. He glanced at the window. It was cloudy outside, and the patter on the window suggested rain. He felt guilty, guessing that Hedwig was waiting outside in this miserable weather. Harry stood up, and walking on his socks to minimize the noise, he approached the open door. He peeked around the corner, and saw that both the chair and the cop in it were gone. "Don't think you're going anywhere," Harry heard a voice say. He turned to look down the hallway the other way to see the cop sitting with his feet up on a stool. He was looking at Harry over a Sports Illustrated magazine. After a brief staring period, the guy went back to his magazine, glancing up occasionally at Harry to make sure he didn't leave. Harry turned back and went back to his bed. He sat down and faced the door. There was only one man, in a sitting position. Harry had a chance to just run for it, but being this short, with such a short stride.it would hinder him. He knew he had always been fast, but judging from the fitness of the man, he wasn't sure he could take him. Even then, any doctor or nurse might try to intervene. If he had his wand, he would have been able to get out easily. But without magic, he was helpless. That would have to change. Harry put on his sneakers, and laced them up tightly. Once he got outside, he figured he have to get into a public place, duck and cover. Maybe a park, or a subway. He needed a place where he could fit in and disappear. He tip-toed silently to within one foot of the door and focused. He figured his best advantage was right off the bat, so he assumed a starting position. He imagined himself at the starting line in the Olympics. All he had to do was run. He stopped. He didn't know what floor he was on, he didn't know if he was on the ground floor. He walked over to the window and looked down. He couldn't tell, but it looked like about four floors. He didn't know which way the stairs were. He got an idea. Walking over to his bed, Harry picked up the little handset connect by wire to the wall. He pressed the red button. He waited patiently, and seconds later an Asian nurse walked in. She saw Harry and looked him over quickly. "What's the problem here?" she asked. "When I talked to the doctor, I think my wallet fell out of my pocket. It would be in the stairwell. That's where we talked" Harry said. The nurse looked convinced. "Which stairwell? The one by the elevators? Or the one down the hall?" she asked as she pointed in a certain direction. Harry didn't like that direction. That meant he would have to pass the guard. But he didn't remember exactly where the elevator was. Now that he knew where to go, he had to get rid of her. "The one by the elevators" Harry responded. She nodded and turned to leave the room. Harry tip-toed back to within a few feet of the door and stretched his legs. He wouldn't allow them to fail. He waited, and took a deep breath, uselessly tried to calm his pulse. He counted back from three, and with his leg placed against the wall, he exploded into a sprint. He was fast, he knew he was fast, and his small body allowed him to be very agile. It helped as he dodged people, a bed and a janitors' cart. He vaguely heard the cop yelling for someone to stop him, but he was too fast. He made it to the end of the hallway, and followed the emergency exit sign into a doorway. He stopped suddenly as he almost fell down the stairs. Gaining his balance at the landing, he leapt down to the next landing, grabbing onto the handrail to steady himself before jumping down to the next landing. He was careful to land well, knowing that injuring himself could be costly. As he neared the second floor, judging from the two above the doorway, he heard the fast steps of the police officer enter the stairwell and echo in the concrete enclosure. Harry ignored it and was soon through the doors on the ground floor. He ran across the open lobby, and ran in the direction where he saw the light of day. A security guard at the entrance noticed him, but was too slow to react to him. Harry was soon outside, and ran across the street. He kept running, dodging people on the sidewalks, trees, fire hydrants, and everything else which lined the sidewalks. He stopped, and checking over his shoulder, stepped into an alley. He was five blocks away, and he was pretty sure he got out without anyone seeing where he was going. He leaned against the dirty alley wall, and took deep breaths. A smile graced his face as he realized what he had gotten away from. He supposed that it wasn't a great accomplishment, but he felt better all the same. The adrenaline rush from the run made him feel better as well. For the first time in a long time it felt as though he was actually using his lungs for breathing. He wiped water from his face, and realized that it was raining. The rain felt good. The water felt good. Life felt good. He chuckled and yelled as he saw a familiar shape fly over the road. The shape returned and landed on his shoulder. He petted Hedwig, and curiously removed a note from her beak. He opened it and sighed. It was the notes he wrote to Hermione, Ron, Sirius, and even Voldemort. He lifted the lid to the rusty green dumpster next to him, and tossed it in. He stroked Hedwig lovingly. "Let's go home, girl" Harry said softly. Hedwig took flight and Harry started walking. He didn't need an umbrella, nor a raincoat. All he needed, was a place to stay.  
  
/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/  
  
Hermione was reading, like she usually was. She was in a room with a large fireplace, burning brightly, and spreading warmth into the large room. She was alone, and was sitting on her favorite couch. She looked around the room. All of the red and gold furniture was empty and inviting. But something was going to happen. She could feel it. There was a knock on the door. She looked up but didn't go to answer it. She didn't know why she didn't move, but it felt like the right thing to do.  
There was a second knock; incidentally as the rapping sounded it was accompanied by a flash of lightning and the roll of thunder. Hesitantly, she stood and crossed the luxurious room to the door. She wrapped her slender fingers around the handle, and gave a soft tug, opening the door slowly, and looking at the person on the other side.  
The person looked like a stranger to her, but she knew who he was. He was soaked. His was hair matted down against his head, and his skin looked sallow. His clothing was terribly drenched, as were his eyes. But the rain had nothing to do with his eyes which were quite possible the most beautiful part of his body.  
He was looking at her sadly, like he had suffered more than his share of pain, but guilt lingered as well. He was looking into her eyes imploringly, begging forgiveness for something which she knew he was not responsible for. She stepped back, and he slowly moved into the room. No words were exchanged, they didn't need to be. She was surprised that he didn't use his hood, which was attached to the cloak she was pulling from his body. Water dribbled on the floor as she hung the cloak next to the fire, giving it a chance to dry. She turned back to him as he pulled off a thick sweater. It was a blue sweater, which she didn't expect him to wear. Green maybe for his eyes, or Red and Gold, his house colors, but not blue. Blue was for Ron. However she had to admit, although the color didn't bring out any of the particulars of his features, he looked remarkably well coordinated in it.  
He placed the wet material on the chair nearest to the fire. It was to be dried as well. He stood facing her in his t-shirt. His t-shirt was damp, but not as wet as his other clothing. She looked at his lean body. He had grown over the years, but his body would always remind her of what it looked like to never eat quite enough.  
She went back to her couch as he watched her, and she bookmarked where she had left off. She placed the book on a table, and went over to the fire where it was warmer. She became self conscious, and looked at herself. She was wearing a soft, long sleeved t-shirt, and comfortable black pants. She looked over at the young man again. He brushed his black hair out of his eyes, and his glorious emerald eyes were trained on her. She moved to the other chair facing the fire, and it naturally lengthened itself into a wider version of itself with enough room for two. She sat down and looked over at the young man who didn't move. She was inviting him to join her, but he seemed hesitant. He was afraid. He was nervous. He was unsure.  
She looked into his eyes, projecting her invitation, and he slowly walked over, his posture never waning. He sat next to her, and stared into the flames. She watched him look into the light of the fire. It reflected off his eyes, giving the illusion that his eyes were on fire. He slowly turned his head to look at her, and their eyes met. He was again asking for forgiveness. He was feeling guilty. He was ashamed. She told him he was wrong, he was innocent. He was not responsible for it there was nothing he could do. He had done his best.  
He would not be convinced, but thanked her anyway. Nothing had been said. Their communication was silent. Nothing needed to be said. He apologized once again and let his head fall to her shoulder. His eyes returned to the flame, and she saw tears begin to form. One fell, then another. She brushed them away and kissed his brow. She kissed his scar. She kissed him where his life was stolen from him. He looked up at her as she pulled her lips away. He wanted more. He wanted love. He wanted someone who loved him. She loved him. It was the least she could do.  
She brought her arms around his neck as he sat up, and she hugged him. She brought her entire body against his, despite the dampness. She wanted the dampness to leave him, to leave him forever. She wanted him to be happy.with her. She buried her face into his neck, and he did the same to her. She felt a warm wetness on her neck, and she pressed herself against it. She felt a soft sucking and pressed harder against it. She wanted him to not hold back. To let his emotions come out.  
He pulled away and looked her in the eyes. She couldn't picture his eyes, but she knew that they were telling her that he loved her. She was happy, but she couldn't smile. She could only look at him, and wish he would touch her. His face came closer and she closed her eyes. She expected an explosion. Love. lust. passion. violent emotions. She didn't get it. She got soft lips that craved her, but moved slowly and intimately over her own. She got a soft pressure against them, as the man behind the lips showed his desire for her. The passion was there, the love was there, the need was there. There weren't any explosions or fireworks. But there was a spark. A slow steady spark, and there was something else, greater than anything she had ever felt. Devotion. He was there only for her, and she wanted to be only for him. The kiss lasted, and their mouths opened. Their tongues caressed each other, wanting them to feel the depth of the love they possessed. Their lips never separated, and the slow passion of the kiss allowed them to continue without loosing breath. It was the perfect kiss. His arms snaked around her and pulled her body against his. He was no longer wet. He was dry and warm, and he loved her. She felt a sharp pressure against her shoulder, but she ignored it. Nothing could break this kiss. There was another poke in her shoulder. She wouldn't leave her lover, he best friend. The man she couldn't stop thinking about. The hero of an entire world. The hero of her world. There was another poke in her shoulder, this one harder, and an appalling coldness crept over her hands. She pulled away sharply and looked at him, but he was no longer there. There was only darkness. "Hermione!" came an annoying voice. Hermione lifted her head to see Ron holding out his finger in the vicinity of her shoulder, and Professor Binns' arm reaching through her hand. She felt a cool wetness near her mouth, and was disgusted as she wiped drool from her chin. "I'm awake, what happened?" she mumbled as her eyes got accustomed to the light. She looked around to see that everyone had left the double History of Magic Classroom. "Class ended, Ms. Granger. I believe it is time for lunch. Do you want me to send for Madame Pomfrey?" said the professor. Hermione blushed in humiliation of being caught asleep during a class. Binns motioned for Ron to leave, and he did so reluctantly. Hermione placed her books and quill in her rucksack, and began to stand. "Ms. Granger. What I am about to tell you is unknown to all mortals, except for a very select few. We ghosts know what the other ghosts feel, and know. We know every feeling of every ghost and we all know what we all know. This may not make sense to you, but I can tell you right now that Moaning Myrtle is in the prefect's bathroom watching Ryan Slzooz rinse his hair. Peeves is attaching a trip cord between two statues of armor, so that they both will fall causing a ruckus. Headless Nick is talking to two second year Hufflepuffs, trying to get them to leave a forbidden corridor. A ghost named Clumsy LuAnn is floating around a house for sale, waiting to scare some muggle children-" the professor said. "Why are you telling me this?" Hermione asked, honored to be trusted with such information. "Because.a ghost named Miguel Esperanzo just saw Harry Potter skip down the street, watching as an owl flew above him. He was in good health, and he was having a good time. When I touched you, I saw your fear for his well being. I assure you, Ms. Granger. He is fine." Hermione looked at him like she was dreaming. Was it possible? The ghost turned around and flew through the chalk board, leaving Hermione in peace. She shook her head, and her stomach grumbled. She hadn't eaten breakfast, and decided that today she would eat lunch. Maybe Ginny would forgive her for whatever she did, and they could become friends.  
  
/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/  
  
He was surprised how easy it was to learn how to shoot. It probably helped that he had free rule of the range. Apperating in easily avoided the security systems. He pulled out a few different types of guns and their ammunition. He matched and loaded them. He figured out what a safety did, and he learned how to fire. He had unlimited targets, and unlimited time. He could spend eight hours a night, just training himself. Bullets were much faster than magic, and he figured that soon enough muggles would be pulled into the fray, and it was illegal to do magic to muggles regardless of the situation. Even self defense wasn't permitted.  
So he would take a variety of guns, returning to ones he enjoyed and he felt he did well with, and trying out a few different ones. He would send back the target and do his best to hit them where it hurt. After only a few sessions, he began to feel that he was getting good at this. The targets were returning with almost all of the holes near the heart, or head, depending where he was aiming. He did learn quickly not to hold the trigger, as the automatic weapons would pull themselves toward the ceiling. It wasn't long before he was decent with the more difficult challenges he gave himself. Using a pistol for longer shots. Pulling out a gun and shooting suddenly. Even experimenting with a large, heavy rifle, which he noticed had a very large bullet size, and enough kick to make him slide a little backwards, despite the fact he was laying on the ground. The heavy guns were a little difficult for him, and he often preferred the smaller caliber rifles and pistols.  
Some of the weapons he could only marvel at. Like one of the smaller automatic weapons. He had no idea what its' name was, but in the clip was thirty rounds, and when he held the trigger, all of them would be out in under two seconds. When Harry finally chose one of each type of weapon which he liked, he used his staff to imprint them into his hand. If he ever needed one of them, all he had to do was think about it. It was faster than any draw he could think of. In his last night at the range, he left five hundred dollars for all the ammunition he had used, and a note of appreciation. At least if he wanted to try suicide again, he would have a convenient way to get it done, but upon reflection, even that wouldn't kill him.  
  
/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/  
  
Harry was looking around the park. It was pitch black, and he felt oddly excited at the thought of being in central park so late in the evening. He was waiting for his contact to show up; a spy who he had gotten on his knees, and who had offered to spy in return for his life. Harry didn't trust the man, but after a certain few spells which incidentally had some painful side effects, Harry felt that having his own spy could be a good thing. How many lives did Dumbledore save by using information given to him from Snape? There was a rustling in the bushes behind Harry. He slipped out his wand and waited patiently. He silently completed the daylight spell, to illuminate his surroundings to only his eyes. He glanced around and saw a figure crouched in the underbrush. It was the contact, and he was obviously scared shitless. "You can come out Gabe.it's only me" Harry said clearly into the night. The man stumbled out, and slowly approached the bench with his wand drawn. "Put it away before you force me." Harry said, ending his phrase for maximum effect. The man seemed unconvinced. "I f-force y-you to what?" the man stuttered. "Cut off your head and use it for a toilet" Harry said. Gabe was always on the edge, but this paranoia was a rare sight, indeed. Gabe visibly sighed at those words, and putting his wand down, he sat next to Harry on the bench. "I'm sorry about my doubts. It's just, just that.they know. They know I'm a spy. He.He killed my little girl. She was only nine. She never did anything wrong. She loved you, though. She wanted to meet you when she went to Hogwarts. She knew me and her mother were in Slytherin, but she always said that she was going to be in Gryffindor like Harry Potter." Gabe said. He had started crying. Harry felt it would be best to let him speak. He really felt for the man, but this was war, a war where emotion was a weakness. Emotional connections were vulnerabilities. "My wife though.I don't know what to think. They killed her, too. But they put all sorts of pictures of her around her body. Pictures of her.with.with Malfoy, and with Lestrange! How could she!?!? She.she was.she betrayed me.she slept with all of them! ALL THE BLOODY BASTARDS!!! I can't believe it...I just can't believe it." Gabe slowly went silent, muttering to himself. Harry didn't know what to say. To say he didn't feel partly responsible would be a lie. All he could think to do was make him a few offers. "Do you want revenge? Do you want to go after Malfoy and Lestrange?" Harry asked. Gabe looked up at him sadly, a fire behind his eyes. "It will not give you peace, and it will not give you closure. It will not make you feel any better, but if you want revenge, I will help you," Harry said quietly. He waited a few seconds, and he continued after he got no response. "Otherwise, I can hide you, I can keep you safe, until the war is over, or until I die. Whichever comes first," The man went back to his teary pondering, and Harry waited patiently. He saw a glimmer in the sky, which was blue to him considering his daylight spell. The glimmer became larger, and he soon recognized Hedwig. She landed on his leg, and looking up into the sky hooted. Harry understood. "You got this off another owl?" Hedwig hooted in confirmation. "What kind?" Harry asked. He watched as the owl spread its wings and fluttered them a few times. The man watched Harry raise his eyebrows in surprise, before opening the letter. He was amazed that the boy could read it in the darkness. Harry slipped the note in his pocket and turned back to the man. "What was that?" Gabe asked. "They want me to come to Hogwarts, to teach a lesson," Harry answered honestly. "Oh, I heard about that," the man said, before they fell into silence once again. After a few minutes, he began talking. His voice was calmer, but still heavily laced with sadness. "My nephew went into Hufflepuff two years ago. He's a third year now. He wrote me a few weeks ago, tellin' me all about the mysterious men in black cloaks who taught lessons while Moody slept." Gabe said with a soft chuckle. "I mean, he's only thirteen. When He finds out that my nephew is in Hogwarts, what's He going to do to him? He's only thirteen. He can't fight Him," Gabe said fearfully. "He's safe at Hogwarts. Dumbledore is a strong wizard, and he will keep Voldemort out. But you will not be safe. You need to tell me what you are going to do. I can help you get revenge, or I can keep you safe. Or you can just walk away as you please, but they just landed in New York, and they will be here in a minute, you need to decide," Harry said quickly, but his words still coming out remarkably clear. "What, what would you do?" The man asked. Harry had to hurry. "Revenge is a dish best served cold. Strike now and we'll be too soon and careless. Strike later, and we will catch them off guard for maximum effect. Maybe Voldemort is untouchable, but his minions certainly aren't. Didn't you even wonder where so many have disappeared to? I am keeping them safe. I am giving you the same option. I need a yes or n." "Yes, let's just do it," Gabe said. A door appeared in front of him, and opened. Harry signaled for him to go through. With one last sad look at the boy, he stood up and passed through. The door closed and disappeared. Harry looked around. Sixteen deatheaters were approaching from all sides thinking they were hidden under the cover of night. Harry waved his wand quickly, and with a quiet pop, he disappeared.  
  
/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/  
  
"Third years and below, enter and take a seat. Fourth years and above go to Quidditch pitch?" Hermione read the sign on the Defense Against Dark Arts classroom door. She was confused by this, and was fearful that whatever they were doing today might involve flying on brooms, which for anyone else would be a good thing, but for Hermione.and Neville, it was certain death. She walked alone down to the pitch, following about five strides behind Lavender and Parvati who were chatting nicely with Dean and Seamus. She gripped her rucksack closer as the blast of cool November air hit her hard as she exited the castle. Everyone seemed to have wished they had brought their cloaks. Hermione was glad that she was wearing hers. She had been cold earlier. It seemed that the group ahead of her had selected Dean to run up to the Gryffindor Tower to get theirs, and they would attempt to explain their lateness to Professor Moody. As she neared the pitch, she noticed another anonymous teacher, in the trademark black robes and covered face. She rolled her eyes. She didn't particularly like these teachers. They had good stories, but they didn't actually teach anything. The one standing next to Moody was tall in the cloak he was wearing. Or she! Hermione's mind screamed. She then noticed the desk sitting in the middle of the pitch, and she was able to see what was on them. Guns. Lots of guns. More guns than she thought there could be in one place at one time. At the other end of the pitch were targets, large diameter bull's-eyes lined up nicely. She gulped. They were going to shoot guns. Why? She had no idea. She was a witch, she didn't need to know how to shoot a gun. It was morally wrong, in her mind, to have such knowledge. The man cut off his chat with Moody and stood in front of the group of shivering Gryffindors and Slytherins, fifth years. "Some of us are missing. Who and why?" the man asked. His voice was monotone from the enchantments on him, but he was scary nonetheless. "Dean went to get our cloaks" Seamus said. "You are all fifteen. You should know to have you own cloaks, not sending one fool for all of yourselves. I will start without him. Today I am.blessed with honor of teaching you blubbering idiots how to fire a deadly weapon with intent to kill, while in the meantime not allowing you to kill yourselves. (Dean arrived, panting with six different cloaks in hand.) In a duel, would you rather have a firearm, or a wand?" the man asked. Hermione noticed that the Slytherins had no idea what a firearm was. He pointed at a slytherin. "Wand." He pointed at the next student. "Wand." "Wand." "Wand." "Wand," sneered Malfoy. "Wand." "Wand." "Wand." "Wand." "Wand." "Wand." He then pointed at Hermione. She had no idea. "Wand?" she said meekly. "Was that a question of an answer?" the man asked. She felt very nervous being put on the spot. "I don't know. I don't really know anything about guns" she said. She was expecting him to berate her for her little knowledge. "I have a feeling this is the smartest person here." the man said, addressing the rest of the class. "You!" he said, pointing to Malfoy. "You seem to love your wand. When Professor Moody says so, I want you to pull out your wand, and as quickly as possible, I want you to strike that tree over there, in that knot on it's bark, with the fastest spell you know of." Malfoy looked pleased with himself, and the cloaked man nodded at Moody before turning in a direction perpendicular to the tree. "NOW!!!" Moody shouted. He was like lightening. His hand flicked awkwardly, and ended facing the tree. There was a sharp, loud explosion, and Malfoy jumped, as did the entire class, and he dropped his wand which was only halfway out of his pocket. A chunk of wood flew off the tree and landed on the ground nearby. The man turned back to Malfoy. "Disappointing, you are a bit slow. Much slower than your father, but I suppose that's to be expected. People who are given everything never try at anything. Pitiful. I just demonstrated what happens with a P-228 pistol in a wrist holster. My draw was average, and my aim was good, and my time was how? Compared to Mr. Malfoy?" he asked. "Fast," said Dean with a little fear, who, growing up in the muggle world, knew what guns could do. "Very fast," said Lavender through a gulp. "Let's try again. Now let's assume that Mr. Malfoy already has his wand out. Pick it up boy! Now lets see that fast spell, shoot it at the knot in the tree whenever your ready," the teacher said. Malfoy, his face flush from embarrassment, picked up his wand and pointed it at the tree. "Siccus," Malfoy said. As soon as the second syllable came out of his mouth another loud explosion went off. More students watched this time, and they saw the wood splinter off the tree a good second or so before the spell ever got there. "I know many of you were asking when you came down here, why do we need to know how to shoot guns? I just showed you how they are useful, but why would you really need to know how to shoot? Anyone?" the man asked. Hermione raised her hand. He looked at her, but didn't say anything. "Um, because You-Know-Who might use muggles to fight us, and they'll have guns?" she said. He didn't remark on her questioning her own statement. "Close. But we can just block the bullets, so why do we need to know how to shoot?" there was a long silence. "It's a lot simpler than you think," he said. But all the faces were just blank. "Wizarding law forbids the use of magic on anyone who is a muggle. Therefore, you can't curse them, you can't hex them, you can't even bloody disarm them. So if a muggle has a gun to your head, and he's going to kill you, and you curse him, bye-bye, see you in Azkaban. Is that clear?" There were muted nods. "Good, also guns are significantly better than wands at killing dangerous magical creatures" the man said. "Wait, these things are made by muggles, aren't they?" said Malfoy, incredulously. "Yes Mr. Malfoy," the man said, his monotone voice not without annoyance. "And it just sends the little piece really fast, right?" Malfoy said, in a rare display of brilliance. "Yes," said the teacher. "So why can't you just block it?" Malfoy asked. "A good question. It is because it gives such a concentrated shock to any shielding, it goes right through. There is only one spell to prevent it. You all do know of the Spargus spell, correct?" There were mostly nods in the group. "You need to put the spell on yourself. What it will do is create a coating around your body. When the bullet hits you, the small piece that goes really fast (he added when he saw the confused faces of the Slytherins). When it hits you, it will stop at the shield around you, but all of it's force will be spread evenly. The muggle laws of physics still apply, so your body will be pushed backward a little, but you will feel no pain, and hopefully you won't trip on something behind you. To demonstrate, Professor Moody will shoot me after I have the spell up, so that you may see it's effects. Spargus" he said. A transparent blue sheath seemed to form around him. He walked away from the students, and asked Moody to proceed. Moody picked up the nearest pistol, and guessing from the demonstration of before he pulled the trigger. The hammer went back, and clicked forward, but nothing happened. "You have to turn off the safety first. It's the button on the left side of the weapon." Moody turned the gun on it's side, and pointed it at the man, all of the muggle-borns became suddenly very tense, as Moody aimed and pulled the trigger. There was another loud explosion, but this one seemed deeper and more powerful than the one the other man used. The shell around the teacher wobbled like the surface of a pond, but he was still standing, and he was unhurt. He signaled for the students to come and have a closer look. They came around him, and he signaled to the ground. In front of his toes there was an area of about a centimeter in which the grass was torn off, revealing the healthy dark soil. "See, I was pushed backwards. It doesn't block it, it lets you absorb it so the it is tolerable. Now, I want to see you all do the spell on yourselves. Lets go, don't dawdle," the teacher said. Hermione immediately disliked him. He was sharp, and randomly explosive, and he seemed to need to be in control as much as Snape did. She did the spell and watched as everyone but Neville succeeded. Neville was falling apart as the teacher neared him and peered down through his dark fabric. "Mr. Longbottom. Calm down, and take a breath. I am not going to kill you if you cannot do the spell, which I am positive you can do with little difficulty. Just focus, and say the words. The rest is a piece of cake." Hermione watched as Neville obeyed, and he completed the spell. "Now that you all have the spell completed, I will shoot you all." he said as the students erupted in yells and screams "QUIET!!! Now, I will shoot you all, and you will all be safe. You need to know what it feels like, or when it happens you will be caught off guard. Why do you think you were put under the Imperious curse last year? Now, just so you know, I will be shooting at your legs, so in the small chance something does happen, it will only be a flesh wound, which Madame Pomfrey." the teacher signaled behind them, and they saw the resident nurse approach with a scowl on her face, "can heal almost immediately. Does anyone have any doubts about what I told you?" The teacher glanced around, and slowly, all the students raised their hands into the air. "Fine. I can see when I'm not trusted. Moody, shoot me in the leg. And if you miss I swear on my life I will skin you alive," the man said. Then a very queer thing happened. Alastor Moody squirmed in nervousness. The man did a Finite Incantem on himself, and his shielding disappeared. Moody gave the man a look which clearly said 'Do I have to?' "Go. Now," the teacher said. Moody took aim, and pulled the trigger. There was the loud bang, and the robes around the teacher whipped about. He fell onto one knee. "Bloody Fucking Hell." He unsteadily turned to the students, whose faces were pale with fear, ".You see, what I am doing to you is non- deadly, assuming it goes wrong, which I assure you it isn't. Madame Pomfrey, if you would," the man said. The nurse rush forward, and taking out her wand, she actually used the summoning charm, and there was a gush of blood staining the grass as a small object flew into her hand. The man groaned in pain. She did a few more spells, and the man stood up, facing the crowd of students, more panicked than they were beforehand. "As you can see, in seconds I'm as good as new." As if to prove his point he did a little hop, skip and jump. Some of the students grinned uneasily. "I will shoot each of you once, please stand in a line facing me, so no one nearby gets hurt." They lined up and watched as he shot a defiant Seamus. Seamus slid back a little, but he smiled as he saw he was uninjured. This eased everyone's concerns, and in no time he was done shooting them. "Alright. Continuing. Now you are going to shoot. No! Not each other. I have targets for you. First, I will teach you how to operate the firearm I am providing you with." He picked one up. It was a, "small caliber hunting rifle." He demonstrated how to turn the safety on and off, described how anyone that pointed their gun anywhere but downrange would be immediately dealt with in the harshest manner possible. He provided them with protective glasses, which felt like cheap plastic. He gave them ear plugs. He showed them how to load the clip, how to aim, how to load a round, how to fire. It turned out that you couldn't just pull the trigger. You had to "squeeze it like if you tugged too hard it would pop." He finally, as an example, had Ron come up and take the first spot at the shooting side of the range. He helped Ron get into the proper kneeling position, and let Ron do it himself, occasionally throwing in pointers and correcting him. When Ron was ready, he told him to shoot. She watched, as Ron took aim, and after a few seconds pulled the trigger. It hit the large target, but it was high and to the left of the bulls-eye. Smoke shot out of the top of the target. It read 'Good Start.' Harry signaled for Ron to put the gun down, and careful to keep the barrel pointing downrange, he signaled for everyone to pull out their earplugs. "Now, I don't want you to just fool around, so we are going to have a small competition. You are to shoot only on your own target. If you shoot on anyone else's you will be disqualified. Here are the rules. Everyone will use fifty rounds of ammunition. The target will record how well you do, and the person who does third best will get twenty galleons." Some raised their eyebrows. That was a little much for a friendly competition. "Second best will get fifty galleons. I believe that's enough for a bit of fun." Many of the students began grinning madly. "And first place will be awarded three- hundred galleons" he said. There were gasps from the students. Even Madame Pomfrey looked rattled. "Wait! I'm not done. The first place shooter will also then challenge me, one on one. If they beat me, they get one thousand galleons, in addition to their three hundred. Don't waste your shots. Take your time. Rushing will only get people hurt. And do your best. I will have a special treat for everyone after class, assuming you all at least put in a bit of effort. Put in your earplugs, and off to the range!" He said. Hermione was stunned by this. As if to encourage them, he pulled a large sack of jiggling coins out of a crate and place it on the table, letting a few slide out. Hermione found the place two to the right of Ron, who had resumed his shooting. It was then that the monotone voice invade her head. "I have charmed these earplug so that I may talk to you through them. Now. First thing is that you pull out and load the clip." Hermione was relieved as he walked them through it step by step. And soon enough, she was ready to pull, no, squeeze the trigger. The first shot was unlike anything she had ever felt. It was the force of it being pushed back into her, which fascinated her. She tried to hold back the grin, as she lifted the bolt action and slid it back, fascinated as the brass shell flew out, somersaulting to the side. Smoke eased out of the recessed area as well, and it smelled like sulfur. The next round popped up into the chamber and she slid the bold forward before locking it down. She aimed, lining the tab up with the valley, and squeezed again. 'Nice Shot. Only inches away!' said the smoke above her sign. She grinned again. This was fun. Forty-eight rounds later, she put down her gun like instructed, and she waited patiently for the others to finish. When they had all fired their last shot, they were instructed to leave their positions, and go to the table where the sack of galleons had changed into four separate sacks. The teacher was holding up a clipboard. "Alright, third place is.target five.Blaise Zabini" the teacher said. Blaise flushed in embarrassment as Malfoy sent her a look which clearly showed his disapproval. She caught the small sack which was tossed to her, and pocketed it silently. "Second is.Seamus Finnigan," he said. He tossed Seamus the slightly larger bag of coins. "And out best shot here is.Dean Thomas. Excellent job," the man said. He lifted the sack on the table, and with a little difficulty, Dean placed it down on the ground. "Now, we're going to make this a little harder. No kneeling, we will be standing. Fifteen rounds each. And to ensure fairness, we will use the same weapon. Are you up for it?" Dean nodded, and looked at the man as if he was crazy. "Because you have never shot standing before, I will give you one courtesy shot," the teacher said. Dean went back to his position, and loaded one round into the gun. He seemed to take a while to aim, longer than he had before. He finally let one off. The teacher handed him a clip of ammunition, and Dean took his time, much to the anticipation and boredom of the rest of the class, in sending them down at the target. Most of his shots received the comment 'Nice Shot, Only Inches Away' from the target. He finished, and handed the gun to the teacher, who seemed very pleased with Dean. He unloaded Dean's clip, and put in his own. The teacher was a lot faster than Dean, and got similar comments, until on his eleventh shot lights started flashing, and the smoke read 'BULLS-EYE!' The teacher was unaffected by this, and continued until he had quickly finished off all of his rounds. He put down the gun, and looked over to Moody. "Sorry Thomas. If it helps any, you weren't so far off him," Moody growled.  
  
"This is such a pointless class," scowled Malfoy in his boredom. Hermione had totally forgotten his existence as she was so involved in the class. "Is that so? I have one more method from which I can prove to you the value of this lesson. I shall be right back, don't go anywhere," The teacher said, before he disappeared with a familiar 'pop.' Ron turned immediately to Hermione. "I thought you said." Ron began. "I have no idea," Hermione cut him off. Everyone was looking at the spot which had just been their teacher. Only a few seconds had passed before he returned at the other end of the pitch, but behind him was something they did not expect. Obviously neither did Madame Pomfrey or Professor Moody; it was a small dragon, probably an adolescent, because even thought it was small for a dragon, it was still many times the size of Hadgrid's hut. Malfoy was jerked to the side by an invisible force, and a pink sphere started glowing, surrounding everyone in it, but Malfoy. It could be seen that the raging creature was chained to the ground, and the teacher marked a visible line between the dragon and where the class was. The line was a bit nearer to the students than to the dragon. "This is what's going to happen. I will release the dragon and Mr. Malfoy over here will have the chance to kill or subdue the creature. Once the creature passes this line, I will intervene. Everyone inside the field will be safe" the teacher claimed. He had gained their trust over the class, but they all agreed he was needlessly reckless with their precious lives. He picked up a large weapon from the table, and placed a clip in it. He pulled back the bolt to load it, and he slid it back forward. Malfoy looked nervous, and his wand was visibly shaking. "Ready?" the teacher asked. Malfoy nodded. The teacher took a scope off of a different gun, and attached it to his wand. He seemed to be aiming with it. He whispered "Fractus" and the chain which held the creature down shattered. Malfoy started throwing random spells at it. A few hit, most missed. Those that hit only seemed to anger the creature more. It charged, flame erupting from its nose in anger. Malfoy was spouting curses as fast as he could think of them The student's watched the teacher, the crazy one, who knelt and picked up that large gun with a large scope. He seemed to be watching it through the scope, and not a second before the Dragon hit the line, there was a deafening blast, and sharp squeal. The dragon dropped from it's running, and hit the ground hard, sliding to a stop, its' black blood pouring rapidly from its' body. Malfoy sighed with relief. "You see what he was unable to do with magic, I was able to eliminate almost immediately. I believe that is all for today's lesson. If you're lucky, I may stay around for another round of classes. Have a nice lunch." The pink shield dissipated, and the students eagerly left for the castle, some sneering at the incompetence of Malfoy, others were cringing at the sight of a dead dragon. As the students left, the teacher used magic to pack the crates he brought with the weapons on the table. He even went over to and made the dragon disappear. He left the targets for later, but made sure all of the guns were accounted for (not good to have one missing with a school full of overexcited kids) and locked away. As soon as he was done, he went towards Hagrid's hut. That's where he would be staying the night.  
  
Sorry this took so long, but it's a long chapter. Hoped you liked it. Leave me a review. If you give me something to respond to, I probably will. Thank you to all of my reviewers. Not A Doctor Yet But Well On My Way- Okay, so you got me. I didn't know so much about the requirements of dwarfhood or any of that. But I still think it fits well into my story. And I want to point out that it isn't the malnourishment which makes him short, it's something else. The imaginary doctor in my story was grasping at straws to try to make sense of it. Sorry for the confusion. Banned42- Harry will stop being a jackass to Hermione when he damn well wants to. Harry is a free spirit with his own unique set of values, and according to himself, he is doing the right thing. TimGold- Why he jumped from the pier? Does the word suicide mean anything to you? Mia- As you have just read, no one finds out. So, for now, Harry is in the clear.  
  
Thanks everyone. Leave a Review, and Happy Reading! 


	34. Putting on a Show

            Harry stopped. He couldn't believe what had just happened. It just made no sense. Well… he could think of a few explanations but they were just foolish. He looked back up at the castle from Hagrid's hut. 

Harry had visited his half-giant friend yet his half-giant friend never saw him. Hagrid had been traveling away from the giants again and Harry had to correct him. The man always ended up going in the wrong direction.  Without being noticed, by changing paths and using illusions to change the position of the sun, Harry was attempting to rectify the situation. Hagrid really was becoming a chore. Thinking of it brought a small smile to his face. 

His eye started itching, and he rubbed it as a tear came out. He refocused on his thoughts. There could be no way that he would send Malfoy to snatch Hermione. She was too well protected. She was always surrounded by friends…well, except when she was alone studying late in the library, and running to and from that same location. 

However, taking someone right out from Dumbledore's nose was…unbelievable. However, that could be its greatest hopes. Malfoy would probably be expelled, but Voldemort would teach him. And…Harry just couldn't accept that Voldemort would go after Hermione. There was no reason to. Other than her being Harry's friend, she had no conflict with Voldemort. That could be the only reason, but describing her as the, "Sole Necessity," was just odd. 

Harry still had to decide how to react. No details were given, and more specifically Voldemort requested that he be told none of them. It was up to Draco to decide a place and a time. Harry did not like this. His entire information network had just been thoroughly avoided and if he did nothing it would be at a great expense. He decided he had to talk to Hermione. He had to talk to her now. 

He checked the map. Hermione was sitting away from everyone else in the Gryffindor common room, but that was not what caught Harry's eyes. No, something else he saw drew a great emotion inside of him, an emotion he was having trouble controlling. He took a deep breath, and there was a pop as the air collided where merely a second before, a person had been sitting.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            Ginny blushed and smiled broadly. He really was a sweet person. He was so thoughtful and generous, and he told her so many things that she had never heard from anyone before. For the first time in her life, Ginny was sure she was in love. She smiled even more broadly and felt like she was floating on air as she made her way back towards the Gryffindor common room. 

            A hand grabbed Ginny by the wrist, and she opened her eyes wide, seeing Ms. Norris up ahead. Another hand covered her mouth. She tried to get the cat's attention but her efforts were futile as she was pushed, or thrown rather, into a nearby room. She stumbled and fell. She drew her wand and screamed "_Stupefy" at her dark assailant. The person brushed it away but she couldn't see clearly in the darkness how the person did it. She found her wand removed from her hand and herself tied into a desk chair. She tried to scream but there was only silence. She could hear the person walking around her, but she couldn't see who it was. She prayed he would come back to save her. He was the only other person out this late. _

            A candle was lit on a table across the room from her and the person turned to her. She still couldn't see his face but the wall was lit up behind her. She noticed her wand was on the desk in front of her but she couldn't break the ropes holding her down. The person came toward her and she could finally make out his features. She gasped.

            "How long has this been happening?" the person said. She tried to scream "_WHAT IN BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?" but when she tried no words came out. She felt a pressure being applied to her upper arm, slowly cutting off the circulation to her arms._

            "I will ask only once more Ginny. How long have you been seeing Malfoy?" said Harry with such disgust that she was taken aback. 

            "Two weeks," she stated defiantly. "When my brothers find out about this–" she began.

            "They will be very tempted to murder you in your sleep and even your father will be disappointed in you. In fact, you would be the only child he's ever had which has ever disappointed him," Harry said. He allowed a few seconds for this to sink in. He watched with pleasure as she hung her head in shame. 

            "You won't tell anyone will you?" she pleaded. She couldn't believe how quickly her happiness had ended.

            "Absolutely. I have no need to gossip but you must agree to my one condition. You see Ginny, nothing in this world is free," Harry explained. She looked at him inquisitively. "You must agree to never, ever socialize with Draco Malfoy ever again," Harry said. Ginny let this sink in one second before her emotional reaction took over.

            "So you're jealous, are you? Couldn't even notice me, and now that I've found someone better than you, you can't live with it. I always knew you were a fake, just trying to be famous and get attention. Draco is actually a real person and he cares about me. I would never give that up!" she yelled. She waited in the silence for his reaction which came in the form of a chuckle. 

            "I do miss the humor your family provides. He cares about you, wow, Ginny. You may have a future in comedy…" Ginny felt the blood rising to her face, "…but really, how blind can you be? You are not only being used, you are enjoying it. If this is a metaphor for how the rest of your life will be spent, it doesn't look good. I must say though, the thought of me being jealous is almost as amusing. How long had you been fawning over me? I could have taken you then but I didn't for one simple reason…" Harry left off. Ginny waited in silence.

            "And that is?" she asked sensing it was what he wanted.

            "I am not interested, nor was I ever, nor do I think I ever will be. You see, my focus in life does not allow for puppy love and meaningless emotions. My life does not allow it. This is your warning Ginny. Do not go back to Draco. Do you know why he wants to get in with you?"

            "He loves me," Ginny said defiantly.

            "Right…actually he needs someone close to Hermione. Do you know why? Of course not, because you are absorbed in your own little word where there is no evil. I'd expect you to act your age since you've met him. You know how he can manipulate people, even you. You were easy for him when he was sixteen, how easy do you think you'll be now that's he's older and wiser? He wants Hermione to lure me into a trap. Now of course you would stop seeing Draco if he was planning on kidnapping Hermione right? I judge from the look on your face that you don't believe me. He does not love you, and getting in your knickers is only a little bonus for him. You should hear how he talks about you to his friends. Do you want to?" he observed the furious red her face had turned. She said nothing. "Fine, I'll let you hear it," A voice engulfed the room, and the voice was unmistakable. "_I thought this was actually going to be difficult, but she is really easy. She's all broken down since Potter left, and she is vulnerable and ripe for the picking. I bet she's really tight too. Next time I let you two in with the see-through omnoculars, you'd better be quieter. Maybe she didn't notice your heavy breathing, but I did. You have to be quiet if I'm going to let you ogle at her while I spout off all that bullocks about how much I love her. I bet I can take her virginity in two more meetings. I can't wait. I'll owl her and tell her I need to see her. Crabbe, get my owl…Thanks. How shall I write this. Here we go. My Dearest Love __Virginia__, I could not bear to be one more moment without you. I desperately need to kiss you again, to touch your soft skin, to feel your love. Meet me at __midnight__ at the south observation tower. I know the password to get us in. I await you with desperation. Your Love, Draco Itnepres Malfoy. Is that sappy enough? Good, I'll be shagging her before her brothers even realize she's seeing someone. I wish Master would give me more jobs like this. _

The voice stopped, and Ginny found herself hating both Harry and Draco, and unable to decide which she hated more. 

            "I have pressing matters to attend to Ginny. Just remember, I will be watching, and I will know what you are doing, and if you do help Malfoy, however passively, you will share the same fate as he does, and from someone who actually knows what's going on, that is not a very reassuring thought. I am giving you the benefit of a warning Ginny. I beg you to heed it." Harry turned from her and walked briskly out of the room. She felt herself released from the chair and gulped heavily as she picked up her wand from the desk. She was feeling very confused. 

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            Harry checked the map to confirm that Hermione was in her dormitory. She wasn't, nor was she in the common room, or even the library. Harry scanned the map with slight confusion. He finally found her dot at the astronomy tower with the rest of the fifth year Gryffindors. Harry hadn't examined the possibility of there being an astronomy class this night. 

            He started taking the necessary route to the tower. At the base of the stairs leading up to the turret he felt a strange sensation flow through his body. He drew his and spun suddenly but nothing was there. He scanned with every spell he knew, looking for the culprit but there was no one to be found. Keeping his wand drawn Harry made himself invisible, which was a bit more convenient than using a cloak, and continued the rest of the way silently walking out onto the platform. The class was taking notes on the stars and their movements. Hermione was very involved but it seemed to be against her will. 

Harry decided to wait until they were alone. He didn't exactly want to say "Hello, Voldemort is sending Malfoy after you so you should hang around with groups of people, thereby putting them at risk as well" in front of everyone. He sat on the edge and looked down. He left the light on in Hagrid's cabin, and saw a hobbling figure make its' way down there. He could tell from the person's gait that it was Moody. Despite his interest, he wasn't going to leave his post. For all he knew Malfoy could come right through the door any minute and claim Snape wants to see her, lead her away, and then make her disappear. Harry hardened his resolve and remained, watching as she breezed through the star charts. He kept his distance from the group. He didn't need anyone walking into him accidentally. Keeping his composure, he watched as Hermione struggled to redirect her telescope, for it was giving her trouble. Harry could guess from the noise it made that she had never oiled the crank to turn the scope. He placed a silencing ward around himself and started to chant. His place of sight began to travel until it was within the mechanism in question. He muttered the same spell Moody used in the duel at Platform 9&¾, and with a short shriek, the gears started spinning again. Harry returned his sight to himself but left the silencing ward up. He didn't need anyone hearing him either. 

Hermione calmed down, and after rubbing her eyes for a few minutes, she returned to her work. The students began to filter out as they finished. Harry knew Hermione was getting ahead of everyone else; her telescope was turned towards the seventh sector, while everyone else's was on the sixth. Finally it was only her, doing extra, and Neville, who Harry guessed was just trying to keep up. Neville finally finished with a sigh, and turned towards Hermione. Harry knew immediately that Neville was going to ask Hermione to accompany him down to the common room, that or offer to stick around until she was done. Harry couldn't have that. Removing his wand, he did a quick reversive spell on Neville, whose face contorted oddly, before he turned to the stairs and left. 

Hermione took a glance around as Neville's footsteps faded down the stairs. She sighed as started collecting her charts. Harry took off the ward and the invisibility spell, and stepped into the light. Hermione gasped as she realized the presence of another person.

"Sorry, I didn't know anyone else was still up h–" she cut short as she saw his face in the light coming from the stairwell. "Harry?" she said, as if she thought he was dead. 

"I need to talk to you and it's very important. I will let you yell at me later, you just have to listen for a few minutes," he said before she could start reacting to his presence. But his estimation of her was off; she never appeared to be angry, or even upset. She cautiously took a seat, he brushed off the desire to sit next to her, and took the chair across from her. 

"Hermione, You know how I can tell what Voldemort is planning, right?" he asked. She nodded after shaking off the chill from hearing the dark lord's name. "Well, he has put into action a certain plan–" 

"Like the one at the platform?" she asked suddenly, speaking worriedly. 

"No, he now has a scheme with more planning and less concrete information. He has finally enlisted Draco Malfoy to join the deatheater ranks, but first Draco must prove himself and Voldemort has found what he feels is a wonderful opportunity for Draco." Harry paused, trying to find the best way to put this. "Draco is to kidnap you, as bait for me and Dumbledore," Harry said, letting it sink in.

"You know when he's going to try it" Hermione stated, looking for an explanation. 

"That's the thing. Voldemort left all the planning up to Draco, so if Voldemort doesn't know, I don't know. He may strike at any second. I want you to be prepared. I want you to be with a group of people at all times" Harry said. She nodded understandingly. 

"That means no late night studying by yourself in the library, no running to the library by yourself. If Malfoy tells you a teacher wants you, make sure you bring people you trust with you. And don't always trust yourself with Neville, try to stay with more…eh, capable wizards" Harry said. He was getting very frustrated by her lack of reaction. Harry checked the date and a sudden thought hit him.

            "Has Neville seemed at all different in the last three days?" Harry asked. He was beginning to think she wouldn't answer him.

            "He was a little quiet, why?" she asked. 

            "Dumbledore swore me to secrecy," Harry explained. Hermione nodded. They sat in silence for a short while.

            "How long have you been here, when are you leaving?" Hermione asked.

            "I just got here…" Harry lied "…and I'll be leaving as soon as I'm convinced you're safe," he responded.

            "What if you don't become convinced I'm safe? What if I refuse to do as you asked? What if I live on the wild side? What will you do then? Will you stay?" she pressed. He had expected something like this, but his unemotional welcome had let him bring down his shields and now she had struck hard and deep.

            "No. I cannot stay. My staying here puts too many lives at risk, including yours. I would have to accept that you are deciding to act irresponsibly in spite of me. I can admit I deserve it, but you, however, don't," Harry said, and she smiled at his skills in debate. She never really gave him enough credit, but she felt that he didn't give her enough either. "You should go to sleep, I'll walk with you if you like," Harry said reluctantly.

            "No, I can make it on my own. Malfoy is asleep anyway" she said as she got to her feet. She walked to the door and felt something brush her hand. She turned sharply around to tell Harry but she was too late. 

            "MOVE AND DIE!" boomed a voice. Hermione watched as twenty-two people appeared. Fifteen surrounded a now standing Harry and seven others were on brooms. Hermione saw that they all had the seal of the ministry of magic on their robes and they had their wands waving threateningly. One stepped forward. 

            "Harry James Potter, by order of the Minister of Magic, the honorable Cornelius Fudge, you are under arrest for the charges of treason, slander, kidnapping, and murder. You are to surrender your wand now, or face the fate of a duel. Be warned, you are severely outnumbered, and surrounded." Said one man, who had a golden ghost pinned on his collar. 

            "Alright, alright. I'll give you my wand. I'll go very slowly, alright?" Hermione stood, rooted to the spot as Harry used his left hand to levitate his wand out of the very wrist holster she had given to him. It floated into his left hand, and then he levitated it to the man in charge, all with wandless magic. Harry held up his hands to show he was unarmed. He summoned as much force as he could, and one of Hermione's sheets of astronomy charts turned into a hissing snake. She dropped it and screamed. Three of the standing and one of the flying aurors took notice and reacted. Harry took a chance and dove for the nearest auror. He blocked the auror's arm as he tried to point his wand at Harry, and Harry twirled behind him, the man getting hit by countless spells aimed for Harry. Harry didn't even glance before he leapt over the parapet and allowed himself to fall. He knew where he would land, and if he was wrong then he would have to pay the consequences. Incidentally, he was correct and landed in the frigid waters of the lake. A thin layer of ice had begun to form, and Harry's landing created waves enough to disrupt the formation throughout the lake. He swam to shore as the aurors on brooms dove towards him. He pulled out his staff from his pocket and enlarged it. It was time to test himself. He levitated himself out of the water and then made it so he could walk on the substance. He dried himself and used his speed to locate himself to the base of the castle, preventing attacks from two of six directions. He was still recovering from the shock of the near freezing water overcoming his body, and trying to summon enough focus to apparate away. He blocked a few stunning spells, and dodged a few shield breaking charms. He sensed a jet of fire and rolled out of the way. He used his staff to surround himself with a clear protective dome. He watched as the aurors from the roof exited the castle and ran strait for him. The seven flying aurors were now stationary, trying to break his shield. Incidentally, his shield shuddered violently before returning to its calm state. 

Harry calculated his chances of splinching himself in his first attempt to apperate with a staff. His shield was now entirely surrounded by very angry aurors. He gripped his staff forcefully, and spun it rapidly. He stuck it into the ground and watched as his shield disappeared and a wave of yellow light overcame and tossed the aurors on the ground as if they stepped on highly compressed springs. Focusing as much as he could, Harry yanked his staff out of the ground, and spun it around him. Multiple spells fired at him hid him from view, but when they died, there was nothing left. Harry Potter was gone.

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            Harry glanced around and sat down, he shook his head at the glass eye that was staring back at him. 

            "I was wunderin when yehd get in. Havin' some fun with the aurors, have ye?" Moody said as he poured Harry tea. Harry offered him a vague smile as he took Hagrid's large chair. "Maybe shoulda told yeh 'bout the scanners they put in. Scan every'n walks through it. Yeh passed the one at the base o' the tower, an' they knew where yeh were. Took 'em three whole minutes before they were ready for yeh, Potter, and yeh still got away. Cheers,"  Moody said as he downed his flask. Harry sipped his tea and placed his head back into the chair. 

            "It would have been nice if you told me. Where are the other ones?" Harry asked.

            "After tonight, the bastar's 'll put 'em up everywhere. I wouldn't recommen' goin back 'n the castle" Moody said in an amused voice. "But, then again, yeh could always just apperate by 'em" Moody chuckled. Harry rolled his eyes. 

            "Remind me to look for them. If they used the spells I think they used, they should be easy enough to alter. I have to start planning what I'm doing tomorrow for your classes. Is there something you wanted to talk about?" Harry pressed.

            "Actually, now that yeh mention it. I have been growin' bored of this bloody job and–" Moody began.

            "No, I am not taking over" Harry said determinedly.

            "No, it's not that. I was wonderin' if somethin' may be happenin', yeh know. Somethin' of interest to a retired yet very capable auror?" Moody asked. Harry looked over at him with pity.

            "I'm sorry. There is nothing I am willing to involve you in. The platform was the last straw. It's too much of a risk for Dumbledore and the others, including you. I have assembled my own force, and with superior planning, it doesn't matter how outmatched we are. In fact, I am fairly confident in taking on Voldemort, as long as I know the time and the place a bit beforehand" Harry said.

            "Traps?" Moody asked with a sly look.

            "No, he would know. Not traps, terrain. Terrain can be everything…" Harry said thoughtfully. Moody rolled his one good eye and looked around Hadgrid's cabin. "Nice place for a giant," Moody said.

            "He's only half a giant," Harry said defensively. 

            "Maybe mentally, but not physically," Moody said in a tone which made Harry think twice about the statement. Harry suddenly remembered a painting in his History of Magic text. It was from the first war of the giants. Giants were killing giants with wizards attempting to intervene with overwhelming force. The overwhelming force was squashed like insects. A sudden idea popped into Harry's mind, but he'd hold it off for later.

            "I am stuck in a jam. I need you to talk to Dumbledore immediately," Harry said. Moody just gave him a curious look. "He is the one they'll take my wand to, to be broken. Have him tell Fudge why my wand is important, and recommend it gets placed in danger-vault number seven. I doubt Fudge will refuse with the publicity of storing it in the securest vault in the ministry," Harry said.

            "But, yeh'll never b' able to get it outta there" Moody said. 

            "Actually, it's a lot easier than five or six. People would never imagine anyone getting in there, making it much more accessible. Plus, I already know my way around vault seven," Harry explained. Moody gave him a doubtful look but didn't comment. 

            "Any other favors yeh need o' me?" Moody asked. Harry thought about it.

            "Nothing I can think of off hand," Harry said. There was a moment of thoughtful silence. 

            "Whatta yeh teachin' the littl'uns tomorrow?" Moody asked. Harry looked at him like it was obvious. "Yeh're not teachin' the firs' years teh shoot," Moody said resolutely. Harry saw the little reasoning behind it and decided not to challenge Moody.

            "I suppose I could tell them stories, with moving figures and such. It wouldn't be hard to do. I could do the Triwizard Tournament. That would thrill their innocent little minds. I just need a few of Dumbledore's thoughts. You wouldn't mind stealing a few from his pensieve, would you. You'd love such a lucrative mission, wouldn't you?" Harry said. Moody was already grinning. 

"You're on, Potter."

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            There were two incredibly real looking people. They were only eight inches tall, but they looked more real than some real people. These figures, however, were standing next to each other in a recreation being displayed in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. 

            The classroom now resembled a globe theatre, with stadium seating and a stage in the center. However it was incredibly real. You could smell the freshly trimmed miniature grass, and see the mouths moves as the models of Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory said the words which were actually expressed at the time. The first year class no longer consisted of first years, and it seemed half the school came to watch the events of the Triwizard tournament again.

            The anonymous teacher was next to the stage, flicking what appeared to be a wand as the figures moved and talked. There was total silence from the crowd, no one dared interrupt as the two figures walked toward a shimmering gold cup.

            The shorter figure was standing crookedly as they both reached out and grabbed the gleaming golden cup. They both disappeared and the first years gasped. They watched closely for the next scene to come. They had seen all four contestants fight the dragons, all four swim through a recreation of the lake, and all four navigate through the maze. The teacher had explained Krum being under the imperious curse, and the fall of Fleur Delacour by an unseen hand, and now they waited with baited breath for the show to continue after the two remaining figures left in the miniature maze disappeared. 

            "That, I'm afraid, is all for today," the teacher said. There was an uproar. Everyone wanted to see what happened next. Harry, not only did not want to show them, but didn't have any idea how to explain how he knew what happened afterwards. As the uproar began to turn into a riot he ventured to continue. 

            "FINE! QUIET! I did have the pleasure to get a first hand account from Mr. Potter with incredible detail. Therefore I can go on with the story, as to avoid unnecessary injury to myself and your professors," the man said. The students dropped into their seats, of which over two hundred were assembled, and a quick and eerie silence fell. 

            The two figures reappeared in a graveyard, they were still holding the cup, and two more figures materialized as well, one carrying another. They were approaching slowly in the darkness. Words were exchange between Potter and Diggory. 

            "Wands out, d'you reckon?" Diggory said, "Yeah…" Harry said. There was silence, and the shrouded figures continued approaching. "…someone's coming." Harry said. He fell onto the ground in pain, and a high pitched whisper could not go unnoticed. 

            "_Kill the spare" was hissed through the room, and a flash of green light blasted into the larger figure holding the cup to the ground. Some of the students screamed, some burst into tears. Some stared wide-eyed, not believing what was being shown. _

Hermione was one of shocked into silence members of the audience. She had arrived with most of her Transfiguration class soon after they heard that the Triwizard tournament was being reenacted. She glanced through the graveyard scene and noticed something that made her pale. She watched with the rest of the students as the scene unfolded, how Harry was tied up, how his blood was taken, how Voldemort was reborn. How his followers arrived. How he named them. Draco Malfoy went awfully white as people started sending him looks of pure hatred. His father was very prominently portrayed. Everyone watched as Voldemort explained his story. How he dueled Harry, taunting him, how their wands met and the phoenix song rang out, protecting Harry and Voldemort. How the ghosts came out, how Harry broke the connection and ran. How he grabbed Cedric and summoned the cup. They disappeared again, and reappeared at Hogwarts. There was total silence as they watched Harry get escorted away by Moody, up to the castle, into Moody's office. They heard the words exchanged, and the discoveries made when McGonagal, Dumbledore, and Snape arrived in the office. The confession of Barty Crouch played next, followed by the appearance of the real Moody. The distinct blush on the professors' cheeks validated the depiction. The show ended with Dumbledore's and Fudge's argument in the Hospital wing, and as Fudge closed the door on his way out, the figures and setting disappeared, leaving a blank floor. There was total silence, and the man hidden in his anonymity spoke in barely more than a whisper, but he was heard anyway.

"Does anyone have any questions?" He said. The quiet sobbing of Cho Chang in the back became clearer. She left seconds later. Finally, one hand went up. 

"How do you know it's true, and even if it is, how can we trust you?" said a younger Ravenclaw.

"A wonderful question, thirty points to Ravenclaw. I am willing to testify to it's accuracy under Veritaserum. Professor Moody will vouch for it as well. Any other questions?" the man asked. 

"If the Minister of Magic won't do anything, who is? I mean, what is going to fight Him. Aren't you saying we're all defenseless?" said an older Hufflepuff. 

"Forty points to Hufflepuff. There are always people who will fight him, many at any and all costs… who are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice. Some who are fighting him now have fought him before. Like your very own Professor Moody. He has already been in a few skirmishes since the term began. Your Headmaster has left the school on occasion to fight as well. Many of your professors, many retired aurors, and many wiser members of the Ministry are secretly helping…" Harry couldn't help but notice Ron's chest swell in pride, "…and I know for a fact, beyond all doubt, that Harry Potter is fighting the dark arts. I know many of you have heard he was here last night, and attacked a large number of aurors. There is very little truth to that. As Ms. Granger witnessed, Mr. Potter handed over his wand and escaped using mostly defensive spells. I know the ministry wants you to believe that Potter is insane and dangerous. You can now understand this is part of their desire to maintain a false stability with lies and half truths. They destroy evidence and provide tales to disprove good evidence. They blame situations on others who they deem trouble. They know they are full of bullocks, but they continue. Our only hope is in acceptance, and uniting," the teacher explained. 

"Any other questions?" he asked. "No? Then I feel it is time to thank certain people for the donation of their memories in going into this presentation. They include Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagal and countless others. I see that you are all a bit late to lunch, so I will let you go. I'll see some of you in later classes," he said. The students noisily got up, and the doors to the room widened as the students left. The seats of the theater disappeared as the last of the students left and the room returned to its' original size and shape. 

/\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/ /\/

            "It was him, Ron," Hermione said.

            "How do you know? I doubt it anyway," Ron returned carelessly.

            "It makes sense. He was here last night, and probably yesterday, and he knew things that only Harry knew," Hermione explained. 

            "The guy explained that he got people to tell them everything they knew," Ron said as they arrived at the Great Hall for lunch.

            "Right, but the details were too precise. In the graveyard scene, the tombstones would have been random and blank because no one would remember in such detail. All the names, and all the dates, and all the cracked and broken gravestones–" Hermione was saying. 

            "Is this going somewhere?" Ron asked as he took a seat.

            "Yes, it means that it could only have been recreated by someone who was there. Moody knows everyone who attended that meeting, and would never invite any of them, so that leaves Harry. It had to be him," Hermione said. Ron slumped in defeat.

            "Fine, it was Harry. Does that change anything?" Ron asked as he shoveled a spoonful of peas into his mouth.

            "Well, not really. I just thought you'd like to know…" Hermione said. 

            "Tell me when Harry comes back to go to school, and then I'll pay attention," Ron retorted. He was too shaken by the show to really care who was behind the mask. 

Sorry this took so long. There are too many excuses. Enjoy the chapter and drop a review. Thank you everyone for your pestering and support, otherwise I doubt I ever would have gotten here. 


End file.
